The Erised Effect
by Maura Belle
Summary: Potions class is a bit more dangerous than anyone would credit it. One mere mishap can send students into a deep slumber, where they live out their dreams. For Ginny and Draco, this means a house of their own and an empty schedule... as well as marriage.
1. Coming To

The Erised Effect

A fiction by

Maura Belle 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the books. They belong to J.K. Rowling, lucky girl.

As Snape continued his speech on the properties of the many ingredients the students were pouring into their cauldrons, Harry began to nod off. Homework had taken an unusually long time into last night, and he hadn't gotten much sleep. Once his eyelids began to droop, Hermione would nudge him with her elbow, or Ron would whisper, "Harry! Harry, wake up!" It was probably this lack of attention or the others circulating around the room that caused the accident. Perhaps it was the excitement of the coming Christmas break, in which many would be leaving for their homes and others staying in Hogwarts with their friends. Maybe Colin Creevey, being paired with Harry since the sixth years were doubled with the seventh in the Gryffindor/Slytherin class, let all the excitement of doing potions with the one he hero-worshipped go to his head. Was he the one who caused it? Or maybe it was Malfoy, who, for the first time, had received orders from his father not to come home that Christmas. Was it he, blinded by his anger and confusion? Or could it have been Ginny, who was distracted in that class by an ill stomach she knew Snape would not allow passage to the hospital wing for. Hermione, who was so intent on making a better potion grade than a Slytherin favorite of Snape's? Ron, who hardly paid any attention to potions anyway? Who had it been? Who, in truth, caused the explosion that sent countless students flying back against the walls, stones crumbling, and ingredients in little jars falling with the dust from shelves? 

Snape had not seen who it had been, nor had any of the other students. Everyone else had been paying attention to their own cauldrons, no one else's. 

In any case, a number of children were unconscious, and others so scared and startled by what had happened, they were either in shock or crying or muttering what could have happened. The Potions master stood and dusted himself off and immediately rushed to a student who was covered in stones that had fallen from the aged walls. Colin mumbled incoherent things about bruises and scabs and was the first to be sent to the Hospital Wing, on his own, since he could still walk fine. It wasn't Colin Snape was worried about. He hurried over to another corner of the dungeon. Ah, that annoying Harry Potter. In all his fame and glory, it would be horror for the press to learn he'd been knocked out of consciousness in Snape's class. Two other Gryffindors rushed to his side and immediately aided the professor in lifting him up. His fellow students carried Harry away. 

"Draco? Draco!" Crabbe and Goyle were shouting at their unconscious leader, as he lay amongst the rubble with numerous burns and cuts. Snape ran over to his prized student, observing that as the two Slytherins had started, many of the other children started crying for their unmoving friends. All around the dungeon, people were feeling pulses, foreheads, and pulling stones from their friends' bodies. 

*****

"How did it happen?" Dumbledore whispered, looking at the numerous bodies lying on beds in the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey scuttling about this way and that. Snape shook his head and looked down, unable to look at the accident he allowed to happen.

"How many are still unconscious?" The Headmaster went on, noticing many of the students sitting up and asking for their burns to be healed before someone else's. 

"Nine," Snape answered. "Five Gryffindors, Four Slytherins." His expression was one of grim importance.

Dumbledore still stared ahead of him, in shock, it seemed. "Names?"

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and—" At that moment, Crabbe and Goyle sat up.

"Seven in all," Snape corrected himself. He recalled how Crabbe and Goyle had passed out after seeing the amount of blood Draco had lost. 

Dumbledore shook his head. "Terrible… terrible accident." The Potions professor breathed a sigh of relief, pleased his Headmaster didn't hold him responsible, or anyone else. It was an accident. That was all.

****

Ginny smiled as the warm morning sun from her window woke her gently. As she opened her eyes, she saw the light, and quickly closed them again. Once this was done, she realized it wasn't the sun that had woken her. There was an awful, deafening sound coming from down the hallway, but she had no idea what it could be. She was still tired, still asleep to some degree, and she didn't have enough strength yet to figure it out. 

She was fully awake, however, when something beside her stirred. She nearly jumped off her own bed as she turned around to meet the gaze of what was there… What was lying there, in her bed, in her room, in— She took a look around and noticed she was not right. It wasn't her room. She didn't own the bed she lay in. What was going on? Where was she?

It was large, but at the same time, rather small. There was a closet in front of the bed, the open doors displaying one side holding dresses and an assortment of women's clothes, and the other, slacks and suits, men's wear. Seeing this, she only continued to wonder who was next to her. As she was on the left side of the bed, she looked in that direction, seeing a bedside table covered with clutter, and a small expanse of floor between the bed and the open window. The sunlight shown inside, and for a moment, she forgot all her worries, because this looked to her like her window from home. She wondered how far she was from home, and how she got here.

And then he stirred. He turned on his side and then back over to face her, all the while eyes closed and yawning. As he finally opened his eyes, all he saw was someone outlined by the morning's sun, an angel perhaps? Her red hair framed her face, ignoring that she had just woken, and even that confused expression on her face made her look beautiful. He sat up, as she was and yawned once more, adding a stretch for emphasis. He gave her the smallest glance, and then looked away, apparently too tired to care, until he gave her another gaze, harder this time and more serious. He mirrored her confused expression as he leaned in towards her, looking her over in the same manner she was staring at him.

Suddenly, he placed his entire hand over her face, so she could only see him through his fingers. 

"Oh, crap," He muttered. "You're solid. You're real."

"Well, of course I'm real! And so are you, I'm assuming, now get your hand off my face, Malfoy!" She pushed him away, and as a result, fell off the bed. As she struggled to get control of her nightgown and the covers that had fallen with her, she realized the crying that she'd heard earlier hadn't stopped, only increased in volume. Draco himself began to notice it as he moved on the bed, sitting at the edge. 

"What is that?!" He nearly shouted over the din of the covers rustling on the side of the bed Ginny had fallen off of, and the cries coming down from the hallway. "And what the he** are you doing in my….. room…" He muttered, trailing off. 

"Is it your room? Because it's certainly not mine!"  Ginny mumbled among the covers and the awful position she was in. 

"This isn't my house," He whispered to himself, suddenly very confused. With a sigh, Ginny began to climb back up onto the bed, ignoring all the cries that destroyed her ears. She placed one hand up on the post, and another on the mattress, pulling herself up. Draco turned and gazed at her hands before grabbing one and waving it in front of her face. 

"What's this?" He demanded. 

"My finger, it looks like," Ginny groggily replied. Then she realized what he was talking about. The rings on her finger, one for engagement and another for marriage… She grabbed Draco's hand and noticed a band on his finger as well. It was then they began to scream and back away from each other. As they sat on opposite ends of the room, breathing heavily and panicking, they began to question a great many things. 

Ginny spoke first. "What… what— I mean, are we married?"

"I… I don't know."

"We didn't even date."

"We didn't even speak to each other."

"I don't even know your middle name." She admitted, casting a glance to the rings that said far more than she wanted to know. 

"I… don't know what kind of ice cream you like," He said, earning another confused glance from Ginny.

As they calmed down to some extent, they realized something needed to be done about that infernal noise. They each stood; one mere seconds before the other and walked down the hall, in the direction of the cries, childlike and wailing. Draco entered the room first, and noticed immediately the baby blue colors of the walls and the cradle in the center. He backed up against said wall and refused to look at whatever lay in the crib.

"There's no way…" He kept muttering. "No way…"

"Draco," Ginny began, as she hesitantly picked the baby up from its crib, "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Malfoy," He said. 

"What?"

"You call me Malfoy, you and your friends do, in that tone of theirs. Why do you call me Draco now?" The baby began to quiet and reach for Draco, refusing its mother and wanting out of her grasp. 

"I'm only assuming that by some weird twist of fate or a spot of bad luck we have the same last name. It'd be silly for you to call me Weasley now."

He nodded, understanding the logic, but most certainly not the situation. The child continued to reach for him, but he ignored it. "The last thing I remember…" He began. "I was in Potions… about to fall asleep from that boring professor's droning…" He sighed in remembrance. "And there was… some explosion."

*****

"Headmaster," McGonagal approached him, looking panicked. "There's a problem."

*****

"Draco… You don't think this is our future, do you?" Ginny asked, hesitantly. As Draco calmed down from his alarm, he muttered, "No offense, Ginny, but… I hope not."

*****

"The type of truth potion you were creating in your class, Snape, has been somewhat absorbed into their bodies. It's inside their flesh."

"W-what?" Snape stuttered for, perhaps, the first time in his life. 

"Madame Pomfrey believes it's having the same affect on them the Mirror of Erised would, to an extent. They're seeing what they want, but these are wants they don't desire as of yet."

"What they will long for," Dumbledore muttered. "In the future. It's happened before."

"When did they wake up?" Snape asked.

"Three years later in the last incident," Was the solemn reply. "Imagine you living your life's greatest moments, achieving everything you wanted, and then waking up to find you haven't really done anything in three entire years of your life."

*****

"What do we do now?" He muttered, as she set the sleeping baby back into its crib. 

"I guess we," She smiled, "make breakfast."

*****

Over the sizzling of bacon and the hissing eggs, a rattle was heard. It went on and on, in random bouts, never the same twice. Shake it here, shake there, bang the rattle on the chair, bang the rattle on tray—the child never seemed to stop. It just continued to either cry or play, and both were driving Draco insane. Finally, the noise came his way, as the child began to bang the rattle on him. It hit his shoulder first, as he was waiting for his food, and he didn't seem to mind much. At least, Ginny took no notice of it, and Draco just sat there. 

But then it continued, and harder. Who ever would have known babies could have such strength. Getting bored with Draco unflinching, he threw the rattle at his head.

And it hit. Hard.

"Hey!" Draco shouted, rubbing the sore spot above his eye. "Stupid, little…" He trailed off muttering curses and threats the baby couldn't possibly begin to understand.

"Don't curse around the baby," Ginny scolded.

"Like he understands," Draco shot back.

"I don't want any foul language to be heard by that baby! That's that!" Not her baby, and not his. It was _that_ baby. An it—A thing, coming from whence no one knew. It giggled, as if knowing this and finding it humorous.

"It's fine! It's nothing! I grew up listening to crap from my father," Draco rolled his eyes.

Ginny turned around from her spot at the stove, waving the spatula at him with little egg bits flying off onto the kitchen's linoleum floor. "I don't care, this baby won't! And don't say 'crap.'"

When she turned back around, there was a grease fire around her bacon and she began to panic. "Oh… crap!" Was only the beginning of her long string of curses, as she desperately covered the pan. Draco laughed, and didn't bother to help her. He looked to the child as if he found this funny too and said, "Ginny's not doing a very good job at being a mom, is she?"

"Oh, it's nothing to joke about Draco! I'm not a mom, I'm a student! I'm not even in my last year yet!" Once the fire was put out, she groaned and sank to the floor, leaning against the cabinets. She still held her spatula. "It's not fair…" She muttered. "I don't remember finishing school. Nothing of the ceremony."

 The baby giggled again reaching for Draco once more, but for a second time, the man denied him. Seeing its tablemate was not going to hold him, he began to cry, the loud wailing filling the entire house, which, incidentally, wasn't that big. The kitchen was probably the smallest room, but it was, at least, a bit bigger than the Burrow's. So Ginny was comfortable. Draco, probably never having been in a kitchen his entire life was rather upset that he had to sit in one to eat, with a red-haired devil-girl and a screaming banshee-baby. He cursed and then Ginny cursed him for cursing.

"Shut him up!" She screamed, tossing the spatula on the floor with such force, it sprung back up and fell onto the table. It scraped its way across the wood's surface, until it landed in the second seat, where Ginny was supposed to be. Supposedly. For some reason, there were two other adult chairs beside Draco, as though they expected company often. 

"How?!" He demanded, waving the rattle in front of the baby's face, but it did not take it.

Ginny made a motion with her hands desperately. "Hold him!!" She swished her arms back and forth. Draco rolled his eyes and stuck his hands under the baby's arms, lifting it from its chair.

"There," He held the baby away at arms length. "Now what? It's not stopped crying!"

"You're just holding it!" Ginny screamed above the roar of the red-faced little child. "You have to _hold_ it!"

"I am holding it! You just said so!" Ginny became so infuriated with him that she ran across the kitchen (which was only about two to three steps to where he was) and grabbed the baby herself. Draco let his guard down, believing that now he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Faster than lightning, Ginny had grabbed his arms with a free hand and put them in position to hold it. She then dropped the baby in his care.

It immediately stopped crying.

"You see? All it wanted was you!" Ginny breathed a sigh and sat back down in one of the chairs, until she realized the eggs had turned out horribly and the bacon was all but burnt to a crisp. She then got back up and began to make pancakes. Draco sat back down in his own chair, this time, with the baby—with It.

'It, jr.' Ginny thought, smiling. Though the sight of it did look sort of cute. Draco with a baby boy in his arms, each of them staring at each other, not knowing how the other got there in that position, or on the face of the planet, for that matter. But they weren't on Earth anymore. They were past it, beyond it, on their own little world, where they had nothing to do today, or for the entire year, but sit there and lovingly, stare at one another. 

"He smells," Draco announced, his nose wrinkled in disgust. He then set the baby back into its high chair. Now it was crying for a different reason. It was probably not because that cute little 'moment' had been broken, but because it needed a change.

"Ugh," Ginny began to whine. As she went up the stairs to the baby's room, which would, undoubtedly have the supplies she needed, Draco noticed her in her nightgown, so silky and smooth, hugging her curves…. and then what he was wearing. 

"AHH!" He screamed. His pajamas were horrible! How had anyone talked him into this pinstriped monstrosity? He darted up the stairs after her and into the room he had woken up in, dashing into the closet and shutting the door behind him. When he emerged, he wore the most comfortable clothes he could find. Jeans that were a bit too loose for his comfort, and a shirt that he was currently buttoning up. He smiled. The shirt was Slytherin Green. To his surprise, a sound resounded throughout the house when he was on his last button, a sort of ding-dong sound.

The baby began to cry for the millionth time that day, it seemed, and Ginny, bouncing it up and down in her arms—it had on a new diaper, fastened with safety pins and a lot of duct tape—ran down the hall to where Draco stood at the top of the stairs.

"What is that noise?" She asked. It happened again. They each tilted their heads up, looking around as though it came from the ceiling, or the very walls. Perhaps the floor they stood on… they wondered.

Then it was accompanied by a knock and dim shouts of "hello, hello?" 

"Oh! I remember Daddy telling me about that! It's a doorbell!" She explained to Draco, as he was looking more confused by the minute. "It's on some Muggle houses. People ring your doorbell when they come over, instead of knocking, most of the time. Some wizarding families have it too, I believe. A lot, in fact. We were going to get one, but it cost a lot to install it. Such a tiny little thing—"

"Ginny," He interrupted.

"Yes?" 

"When someone rings a doorbell, that means they want to come inside?"

"I suppose so, yes," She looked around thoughtfully, then met his gaze once again. It seemed they were, at least, getting used to each other, though she still had a few plans in the back of her mind to just dart off to her mother's.

"Then… let them in."

"OH! Oh, Draco, I'm not dressed and the baby—" She stopped. It still wasn't her baby? With a shrug she left it to him and dashed off to set the baby back in its crib, then towards the room she'd woken up in to change. So Draco shrugged as well, letting the doorbell ring again and again as he calmly, slowly made his way down the stairs, passing a small table with a telephone, a notepad that said 'Ginny—your brother called' and a jar full of candy. He grabbed a lollipop, stuck it in his mouth, then casually walked to the door and opened it. What he saw scared him out of his mind.

"Omigosh, you're smoking!!" Hermione screamed, when she saw something white sticking out of his mouth. 

"No, no, Mommy! It's a lollipop! Can I have one, too, Uncle Draco?" A redheaded little girl looked up at him with anticipation written into her smile. It was all he could do to keep his mouth from hanging open and the piece of candy falling out.

"Jake-O! Jake-O!" A three-year old began to scream, reaching for him from Ron's arms, as he also held a diaper bag and a bottle of soda. 

"Caffeine deprivation," He explained. Draco nodded at a snail's pace and opened the door for them just as quickly. Hermione dashed in and demanded to know where Ginny was and what he'd done to her, three other children following. Two twins and the oldest, it seemed, and then the redheaded girl who had smiled at him earlier was clinging to his leg, sitting on his foot. One of the twins saw this and did the same, preventing Draco from walking anywhere.

Hermione held in her arms, an infant, looking about the same age as the own they called It in "Draco's" own house. In her free hand, she held a calendar. It was this, and not the baby, that she shoved in front of his face.   
  
  


"You moved in here seven months ago. Calendars say a lot. You married a month before that. So, now tell me what you've done to her!!" She screeched. 

"Jeez, Mommy. You probably just woke her up," The smiling girl looked up at Draco from his foot. "How is Aunt Ginny?" She asked, apparently trying all her charm to get a lollipop of her own.

"Where's Gabriel?" The oldest asked. "I wanna hold the baby!"

"You can hold the one Mommy's holding!" The twin that was not sitting on Draco's foot declared. "I wanna hold Gabriel."

"He likes me more," The other twin said, sticking out his tongue.

"I want a lollipop," The girl repeated.

"Me too!" The others chorused. The baby began to cry. Ron continued to drink his soda. The first baby crying made the other baby cry—It, or as the other children knew It, Gabriel.

"Jake-O, Jake-O!" The child in Ron's arms began to scream.

Ginny descended the stairs, wearing a skirt and a nice blouse. Her hair had been hurriedly pulled back, and she took no time with make-up.

"Aunt Ginny!" All the children ran to her, except those on Draco's feet. 

"W—what?" Ginny began to stutter. She looked to her brother, who shrugged, as the caffeine did its work, and then to Hermione, who looked like she was about to cry—to mimic the babies. 

*****

"I am not a stay-at-home Mom! I'm a career woman! I didn't work as hard as I did in school for nothing! I'm supposed to have a job!!" Hermione wailed as Ginny pat her back, muttering a little 'I know, I know.' She nodded and sipped a cup of coffee—of which she'd already had three—but sighed as she noticed she was still fast asleep, mentally speaking. Ron had all but finished his soda and had raided their fridge for six more (they come in packs like that, you know) and he had offered Draco one. Draco, being the person he is, had stuck to candy, and it kept him occupied enough. For some reason, he was becoming quite partial to the jar-full, which was now in his lap instead of on the 'telephone table.'

The children were all upstairs, laughing and giggling and often times screaming at each other, but to Hermione's standards as calm as it could ever be. She had explained in detail all the mayhem she went through when she woke up. One of the twins—it seems to be the Weasley curse to have twins in the family—had awoken them screaming "Happy Secretary Appreciation Day!" and the other playing a fake little trumpet that came out of a box marked "Christmas Decorations." The closet the box came out of, and the rest of the contents of the box itself were later designated off-limits and a danger-zone due to the broken glass of the ornaments he'd so kindly dropped. 

As of now, there was a crash heard above their heads and a loud thud. "Nothing's broken!" One of the children screamed. The others giggled, as though in chorus.

Hermione whimpered and put a hand to her head. "I don't know what happened. Did we all just lose our memories, or…" She trailed off, her voice becoming far more silent than any whisper would dare to go. Ron finished off another can and opened a new one, which began to fizz and drip all over him. He dashed off to the sink and let it finish "exploding" there, muttering about sodas and all their caffeine addiction. Ginny took the candy jar away from Draco. It was all right with him though, because he already had most of it in his hands and pockets.

The doorbell rang.

And now that they knew what it was, they responded a bit more quickly, but with less enthusiasm. They were going through a crisis, and they didn't need nosy neighbors or Would-you-like-to-buy-this-vacuum-Salesmen. Ginny stomped to the door—which was about two steps from her chair since the living room was rather small as well—and opened it to see Harry on the other side.

"Oh, at last," He breathed little clouds in the cold. "A familiar face." Ginny stood there stuttering as he walked in and began to unzip his jacket (which had some sort of insignia on it) and looked around the room to see Hermione (in tears,) Ron (satisfying a caffeine craving,) and his arch-nemesis Draco, looking very annoyed at everyone, but finding peace in a little thing called sugar. 

"Hey, Harry! You play Quidditch professionally!" Ron shouted, standing and pointed at the markings on Harry's jacket. Harry himself looked and his eyebrows rose to show his surprise. 

"Well, I guess. I just found it in my closet this morning. I kinda just assumed it was mine… I do own this jacket, don't I? Do you guys know, 'cause this morning I just woke up drawing blanks in all directions and—" He was cut off by Ron and Hermione and Ginny rushing up to him and pulling him into a group-hug. Draco scoffed.

"WE DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING EITHER!!!!" Hermione squealed. "WE'VE ALL LOST OUR MINDS!!!!"

The children, from the top of the stairs, giggled. The oldest Weasley child, of whom they had still to learn his name, held It—Gabriel.

Draco put a hand to his forehead, feeling the beginnings of an ache and muttered, "Could it get any worse than this?"

Just then, the doorbell rang again. Since everyone else was crying or shouting and bringing confusion down upon the house, Draco himself answered it. 

"Hey, Malfoy, I saved you the trouble of picking up your kids. Jonathon and Ebony are back from their sleepover," Pansy Parkinson's voice drifted to his ears and all noise inside the house fell silent. 


	2. Conclusions

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, because if I did, Draco would be the main character and Harry would be squashed. But darn it, I know dreams don't come true. ^_^

Students crowded around the entrance to the hospital wing, each of them holding a worried face, a curious thought, and a calm mask. They tried to peer in the windows, some crawling on top of others to get a good view of what was inside. No matter how hard they tried, the door stayed jammed and the windows blurred. Your typical Alohamora wouldn't work on this lock—not while the professors were still engaged in conversation anyways. Crabbe and Goyle, who didn't know what to do without their leader, began pounding on the windows hoping to shatter them (though the glass was incredibly strong by the magic upholding it) and all the other students joined in.

The sound of fists against glass, which felt more and more like pavement the longer they kept hitting it, resounded through the halls. The echoes began calling other students' attention, and the crowd grew larger. 

Soon, Dumbledore knew, he would have to address the students.

****

"Draco?" Ginny leaned over a pale face with a blush on her own cheeks. She repeated his name, again and again, but he didn't snap out of it. The children leaned over the edge of the couch, staring at him and giggling as Ginny moved her hand up towards his face, hesitant to touch it. All the tension from the morning's events caused her hand to shake, and her determination to quiver.

She'd just meant a light tap on his cheek to maybe revive him, but all the stress that built up in her hand made it jerk and before she knew it, she had slapped him.

He immediately sat up and, upon instinct, grabbed her wrist and twisted it tightly. Ginny made no effort to hide the pain in her expression. She wanted him to feel guilty, so she dragged it out dramatically and wailed at the top of her lungs how much it hurt. Draco let go, shocked at her actions and still confused about what had happened, but a few minutes, after Ginny had done enough screaming and turned it into laughter with the help of the children (who were mostly giggling at Draco's expression) she turned to face him and explain things.

"You fainted," She said clearly, still sort of snorting.

"I fainted?" Had a Malfoy before him ever done anything so… humiliating? Draco could barely hide his shame. But, alas, Ginny nodded, "When Jonathon and Ebony came home."

Draco frowned as she motioned into the kitchen, where a boy, about eight years of age was reading a rather thick book—typical Malfoy, Draco thought, always on top of things—and a girl sitting across from him at the table playing with spoons. He was about to scoff and claim the children looked nothing like either of them, he or Ginny, but then he saw the girl's long, pale blonde hair, a shade darker than his own. He scowled and swung his legs over so he wasn't laying on the couch anymore and went back to being annoyed at how he 'fainted.'

Hermione was talking to Pansy, a sort of disgusted look on her face, with Harry sitting in a chair close to them, listening in though he was pretending to read a magazine. Truthfully, the problems they were talking about such as the taking care of children—apparently Pansy had a kid as well—and putting up with husbands—although that was problem Pansy would rather not reveal—as such did not apply to him. Harry barely had to deal with anything troublesome in his way over to Ginny's house (he chose to ignore Draco and the fact he'd "married" _his_ girlfriend) other than having to sign a few autographs for some very eager children he met on the street. In fact, he rather liked the future. He was famous, at least, for Quidditch and not the great defeat of Voldemort, and he was the most eligible bachelor in London. 

They were in London… weren't they? 

Harry's curiosity was piqued. What year were they in? Was Hermione's calendar correct or was it farther in time than they thought? Where were they living, exactly, and what was politics like now? 

Grabbing the remote and once again thanking heaven that he didn't have anyone to fight with over it, he turned on the television. With a few minutes of channel surfing, he finally found a news station. What he heard did not especially please him. Really, it wasn't much—he caught the show as it was ending—but it was enough to send his blood running cold.

"And that's it of this edition of Good Morning America, we'll see you tomorrow." The local news was next, which was, apparently Florida's best source of information.

*****

"Slytherin scum!!" 

"Shut up, you Mudblood!!" 

Things were being thrown and fists were flying in the hospital wing, as more and more children were being led inside because of their wounds. However, right after Madame Pomfrey would heal them, the energetic, violent students would jump right back into the fight, only to return later with another injury. Seamus Finnigin came back six times and in the process of fighting, knocked out two Slytherins and one very unlucky Ravenclaw.

You see, Seamus was angry. Seamus was angry because his friend Neville Longbottom was in a coma, unsure of when he was going to wake up again, _if_ he was ever going to wake up again, and it was a Slytherin's entire fault. Every other Gryffindor was angry because they had lost friends too—Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley and her brother Ron, and of course, the prize of the house, Harry Potter. 

To the Slytherins, all those losses combined couldn't exceed what they felt losing Draco Malfoy. He was the very model of what a Slytherin should be, and there wasn't a child in the house who hadn't looked up to him in one way or another. Fans of Pansy rang out too, blaming the Gryffindors for her loss of consciousness.

It was all a very unjust way to let out all the pent up anger and frustration one feels when he loses a friend.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses began to take sides. Ravenclaw proved partial to green, and Hufflepuffs donned red faces for the while, and both houses fought against each other when they really didn't even lose anything, or have an object to gain, either. 

Meanwhile, the professors were failing at every attempt to revive the students they could come up with. Snape sat, curled up in a chair, looking through potions books for any way to reverse the effect, and McGonagal sent her own owl to the Ministry to see what they might do. Dumbledore looked to Hagrid for suggestions on what to do about the quarreling students, but sadly, the Gamekeeper only wept at the sight of his friends, and cried harder when they wouldn't respond to his calls of "wake up! Wake up!!" 

The students outside, hearing Hagrid screaming at them, rushed in, most bleeding or bruised, and dashed to their friends. Each one knelt beside the beds or grabbed their hands, wishing for the world they would squeeze back. Many kissed their foreheads and cried their own tears onto the sleeping students' skin, hoping they would wake the next morning and be able to cry for themselves. With a mad rush, the teachers tried to get all the students to leave, but it was useless. They were all grieving.

*****

Jonathon looked up from his book to see his father cross the kitchen and open the fridge, rubbing his head as it was still sore where he landed on it. With suspicious eyes narrowed, he gave Draco an odd look that any Malfoy had seen before when mirrors were handy. "What are you doing?" He asked. "You know Mom hasn't gone shopping in forever."

True to his word, Draco found no food (save leftovers in containers dating back to times before Jonathon was born) and no drinks, either, except the sodas Ron had brought with him. Speaking of whom, Ron, father of seven, had fallen asleep after so much caffeine had worn down his system, and long after he had come down off his sugar high. Hermione sat in a chair across from Pansy, and the two were using address books, planners, calendars, diaries, and a number of other things to try to map out each of their lives, or at least the parts they missed out on. Pansy had apparently admitted to the same fate immediately after Draco passed out. He knew they weren't really working together; they were just trying to prove to each other which was smarter and could make the most of their logic. As the battle of wits was going on in that corner, in the other, Harry sat bouncing one of the twins on his knee, making the most of all this "Uncle Harry" stuff. 

Draco rolled his eyes and shut the door, mirroring the look Jonathon gave him. "And where is she now?" He knew Ginny had rushed off once the baby started crying again, he just didn't know where to.

The boy shrugged and went back to reading his book. The little girl across the table from him stared hard at the spoons in front of her, twisting her face into a most serious position. After a moment, she stopped that and her slightly chubby cheeks returned, no longer pinched in, but now part of a frown. 

"If I stare at spoons long enough, will they bend?" She asked, looking straight at Draco.

He stared back.

"This morning I woke up in a different bed, one with flowers on it, like I always wanted, so I think I might be psychic," She spoke softly, in a quiet voice that could probably be raised no louder.

"If you were psychic," Draco began to reply, "you'd have to have inherited that trait from either one of your parents. I'm not psychic, because I'm incredibly rich and intelligent and good-looking and I don't need to be." 

The girl's eyes widened just a little, "What about Mom?"

"Ginny," Draco refrained from calling her Ebony's mother, "isn't smart enough to be psychic. Sorry." 

Ebony frowned as Draco picked up another lollipop from the candy jar, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth. After a moment of thinking, though, he pulled it out and asked, "What do you mean you woke up in a different bed?" 

"Well, I—ow!" She stopped in mid-sentence, staring Jonathon down as he had been the one to kick her underneath the table, and from then on she said no more. Her dark eyes fell down to the spoons again.

Ginny came in at that moment, preventing Draco from prying further, and hurriedly checked the fridge for food.

"There's nothing in there," Draco sneered. "And guess whose fault it is?" 

****

Draco was dangerously close to pouting as he sat slumped in the passenger side of the car, arms crossed and a scowl on his face that was born to beat all other scowls. When he wanted to look miserable, that man could look miserable. He muttered incoherent things here and there, staring out the window as he did, but turning his head from time to time to make sure Ginny could hear a few statements. 

"Men don't go shopping….. What am I being punished for? …. It's not my fault the fridge is empty…. YOU probably ate it all anyways—"

"OH SHUT UP!! I'm trying to drive here."

Draco's scowl suddenly disappeared and he looked over to see Ginny gripping the wheel calmly and performing all actions with ease. "When did you learn to drive?" He asked.

Ginny's mouth opened as though she was going to say something, and for a moment she stuttered. "I… I-I-I-I don't… know." Fear suddenly gripped her, and she slowed the car down. "It's like I've always known…" 

Draco scowled again, sighed, and turned away. "Where are we?" He asked, as though suddenly very tired.

"I suppose we're going a route I've known in my subconscious, but really, I don't know any more than you—"

"No! I mean where are we, exactly and how in—"

"NO CURSING!! I'm sick of trying to stop your cursing—it's _immoral_!!!!!"

"There aren't any children around!! You said—"

"DON'T CURSE EVER, DARN IT!!"

"You said 'darn.'" 

"Darn is not a curse."

"It very well could be in the right context and with the correct tone," Draco smirked at her flustered form, noticing how funny she looked right now. Her face almost matched her hair color and her knuckles stood out white on the wheel that would have been strangled had it been anything other than inanimate.

"Darn is acceptable, just not around children. You may use the word 'darn,' Draco." 

Still, hearing her calling him 'Draco' was something odd. She had always said Malfoy, and had a disgusted sort of expression, like she'd wanted nothing to do with him. True, he returned the sentiments by giving her the same look, and calling her Weasley, but he really had no idea how that came about. She'd never really done anything to him, nor he to her. Why had they held that grudge then, so many years? He had reason to sneer at her—social status, but what had she to throw at him?

Ah, the answer came to him. Saint Potter. She was always on the Gryffindor side with famous Harry Potter. Even when he'd first met her, she stood fast beside him, never wavering while Harry was around. Oh, they could always win the house cup and they could always win at Quidditch as long as Harry Potter was around, so Draco supposed she had a rather easy school life. Draco hated that, and might have gone back to avidly hating her, but at the moment, their names were both Malfoy, and, as he thought with a smirk, she couldn't do anything about it.

**

Apparently, there were people in the town that knew them, as they were waved to or smiled at every aisle they went down in the store. Ginny pushed the buggy here and there, as she had found a wallet with her identification in it that was just full of money and she planned to spend at least half on food. She was trying to rush things, feeling bad at leaving Hermione and all the others stuck with all those children, but Draco walked behind her lazily, hands in his pockets. 

"What am I doing?" Ginny muttered to herself. "Look at all the calories in this—the amount of carbohydrates!! I'd never eat this—"

"I don't think children worry about how many calories they eat every day, Ginny. Might as well buy it," Draco stated, wondering why he didn't rub that piece of information in, since she had not thought of it, instead of just letting her take it. Ginny was a bit surprised herself, but went on to buy the product anyway.

Still wandering the aisles, Draco mentally slapped himself as he realized he could've slipped an insult into that comment about how worried Ginny must be about her weight or just her weight in general, but there was no hope now, five minutes later. 

However, what Draco passed off as stupidity, Ginny revered as kindness. Ah, he could have said so many mean things to her right there, but he stopped himself. She could tell he was holding back, trying to be more like the husband he should—_Ooooh, bad thoughts, Ginny! IMPURE thoughts, Ginny! STOP. THINKING._

She seriously considered taking the can of cream-of-mushroom stuff against her head and banging it there again and again to stop thinking of Draco as her husband. So she woke up beside him in a strange house where they obviously have the same last name and three children. So what if she was wearing his wedding band that had the word 'love' engraved in it? And who cared about the fact that she had picked him to come along shopping, when her companion could've have been Harry, Hermione, her brother, even Pansy Parkinson, the little snot. Any of them could've been better than Draco, but she picked him… She assumed she felt obligated, since she was reverting back to the fact that she had woken up beside him in a strange house where—oh dear. Here we go again.

And another thing—while Ginny was thinking about how many carbs _she_ didn't want to consume, Draco thought about what the _children_ would care about. Like a caring father, he—_DARN IT, GINNY, STOP THINKING!!!_

Ginny audibly squealed as she grasped the jar of jelly, getting ready to slam it against the floor. A steady hand stopped her, looking at her target, (which was Draco's foot once he'd stepped in) and then glancing back to her. "Don't you read? This store has a 'you break it, you buy it' policy and I'm not paying for anything we have to scrape off the floor."

"You're not paying anyway! This is all coming out of my pocket, and grape jelly wouldn't scrape off the floor, Draco," Ginny resolved to setting it down in the buggy. Maybe she had read too much into him, overanalyzed things. Once again, there was a mental block where she tried to imagine Draco as a dad. Nah, it could never happen.

**

A woman of about thirty approached them in the next aisle, a smile on her face until she laid eyes on the pair. She let go of her buggy, ignoring that it went careening into a display and ran to Ginny to grasp her arms tightly. "Oh, Ginny! Oh, you must be so brave!!" She wailed, not caring what the rest of the store heard or thought, for that matter. Ginny, not having heard the news from Harry was rather confused when she heard an American accent come from a woman she thought should be British. She didn't have much time to think of it, though, for just then, the strange woman gathered the alarmed redhead in a fierce hug, still quivering from all her excitement. Hesitantly, Ginny pat her back.

"OH!" The woman wailed again as she pulled away from the hug, still holding Ginny's arms, "You are so brave! I envy you! How could you? Don't you consider the consequences? Of course you don't—look how brave you are!"

"Um, why—"

"I bet you just dragged him in here, didn't you? He probably came kicking and screaming, but you didn't care because he was going to finally spend time with you! And in our last session, you said he wouldn't give a flying flipper when he next saw you!! Oh, but you took action, Ginny! You brought him _shopping_!!"

"Um, well, yes—"

"Oh, you'll have a lot to talk about in our session tonight! I just can't wait to hear how much better your marriage has gotten. I mean, mine has certainly improved from Dr. Edgeworthe's tips, but I haven't gotten up enough courage to take my husband shopping, or out in public for that matter. You'll certainly have a lot to talk about, Ms. Malfoy! It's okay if I call you that isn't it? I mean, since your relationship is improving and—"

Ginny, eyes wide and her head shaking, could only mutter, "We haven't improved that much."

**

After all the groceries were paid for and loaded up into the car (Draco tried to let Ginny do all the work, but didn't really get away with it) Ginny paused a moment before starting up the ignition. The woman walked past their car, waving and mouthing "I'll see you at seven!!" with a cart full of bags of groceries as well as the largest amount of beer Ginny had ever seen at one time.

"We have marital problems," She muttered.

"Surprise, surprise."

She reached over and grabbed his collar, jerking him towards her so their noses were almost touching. Needless to say, Draco was scared out of his wits. "This is serious, Draco! We actually have to go to a therapy session tonight! With other people who are having marital problems!!"

"I don't think it's called therapy, Ginny. More like—"

"IT'S THERAPY, DARN IT!!"

"There you go again. Darn, darn, darn."

Ginny made a motion to strangle him, but as she lost her guts in the last minute, settled for growling horrible curses and banging her head against the car horn, honking it at the store as she sat in the parking lot. Draco patiently waited for her to finish her little tantrum, but eventually got tired of waiting. He cautiously forced her into the passenger side and put a grocery bag on her lap so she wouldn't lash out at anything other than, perhaps, the loaf of bread she was holding. With a smirk, he started up the car, and figured out he could drive too. Instead of going home, however, he drove around aimlessly until Ginny got so sick of it, she really did make an attempt to kill him, and earned the right to drive once more. 

_So…_ Draco thought. _You really can fit an entire person in the trunk of a car._

**

Yay, another chapter! I'd like to voice an especially loud thanks to all the reviewers ^_^ that were so nice in the first chapter. Next chapter ought to be about that giant fight you saw in the first couple of scenes, what Dumbledore's going to do about the whole situation, and the therapy session. Ah, this'll be fun. And, since I'm out all week for Thanksgiving, I should have enough time to do it all. 

Thanks again,

Maura Belle


	3. What we do Best

Chapter Three 

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. If I did, I would take him to my house, put makeup on his face, and then make him wear a cute little pink dress when I took him to the movies. Gee, wouldn't that be fun? Now, wait, lemme tell you about my plans for Ron…**

It was quite a challenge making enough lunch for twenty something people. Not only were there your friends to provide for, but screaming, howling children as well, who found it funny to bang their silverware against the tables singing, "We Will Rock You." Eventually, the forks and knives, which proved dangerous, were taken away, and sandwiches made in haste. The Weasley twins—Gered and Forge—were, surprisingly the calmest ones at the table, but once their food was finished and they disappeared to the far corners of the upstairs bedrooms, giant crashes and commotions (as well as a few giggles) drifted back down to their parents' weak and reddened ears. 

"Nothing's broken!" They screamed, for the fiftieth time that day. Draco didn't care whatever they were doing in the house. He could replace anything—after all, he was a Malfoy, and as far as he knew, so were these four other people living with him. They could afford things… 

Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, he ate in silence along with everyone else. Pansy sat up too straight to be comfortable, trying to look superior to all the Gryffindors sitting around the table. Harry was sighing continually as if waiting for someone to ask what was the matter, though no one ever did. He honestly felt like he'd turned into his cousin Dudley, with all the food they'd put on his plate. They'd really overestimated everyone's appetites, and so the fridge filled with leftovers soon enough. Hermione was still rather upset about the entire situation, as she had apparently waltzed right into motherhood and just simply forgotten about it. Graduation, a wedding, childbirth (seven times) were all things one wouldn't normally just forget. They estimated about 15 years of their lives were missing, and they prayed they were overshooting on that number. Ron sat beside her, glancing over ever now and then as he took bites of his sandwich. Worry was clearly written on his features, and he did nothing to hide it. 

There was, at least, one person who cared more about their partner than themselves.

Ginny frowned as she noticed the looks Ron was giving Hermione. Concern, worry, and an odd sense of patience one ought to have around friends. But Ginny made a quick glance over at Draco and found him staring off into space, dazed and out of it as he chewed. She almost mirrored his scowl, but was careful not to look too pouty. Again, as he sat in his contempt, she was reminded of his bad temper and bad language and bad manners… all overshadowed, somehow by his good looks.

****

It was amazing what a big lunch could do to a child. After stuffing themselves so full (one of them threw up) they didn't feel like running around anymore. Most of them fell asleep in Jonathon or Ebony's rooms, Gabriel already in dreamland in his crib. All the Weasley children, save the oldest, were softly snoozing, with the last just about to nod off. The little girl who was so fond of "Uncle Draco" conked out on her father's lap as he sat in the armchair, about to fall asleep himself. 

Harry saw, finally, golden opportunity.

"I think it might be the best thing to discuss the situation at hand," He announced, taking control of things. He sat up a bit straighter on the brick of the small fireplace, or as straight as one could, and cleared his throat. "What information do we have so far?"

"We live in Florida," Hermione muttered, sorely upset she wasn't even in her own country anymore, or continent for that matter.

"We're old geezers," Ron's mumbling joined Hermione's groans, as he looked down at the redheaded bundle in his lap. "And we all have many, many children."

"And a lot of us are related in ways I wouldn't have even thought possible," Ginny sighed. 

Clearly, they had a lot to go on.

Harry clapped his hands and nodded energetically. "Well, it's a start! Ron, Hermione, what did you find at your house that was at all of some informative use?" He was only so chipper because he didn't have a wife. Instead, he had a career. Ah, just what he wanted.

"Calendars. Loads and loads of them. Hermione picked up the first one she saw and freaked out, the next thing you know, we're banging on a strange door with a strange address, seeing Ginny and Draco are married. Of course, the kids were no help, jumping up and down and what with Forge trying to be Tarzan, it was rather difficult to get him into the minivan, which I have a license for, by the way." Ron took another swig of soda. "Our house has no other floors than the ground one, unless you count a basement that's got a really nice mini bar and pool table, and it's large. I think I made some money sometime in my life." 

Draco scoffed. Weasley? Money? It was a hilarious concept, but really, now wasn't a time to laugh.

Hermione nodded and just mentioned that children are terrors and should they ever go back to the way things were, she would take a solemn oath to never have any. Ron looked a little disappointed.

Pansy said she woke up beside a strange man (whose name was not mentioned) got into some strange clothes (though she didn't remember her husband's name, she remembered all the labels on those) hopped into a strange car and drove off down a strange street. After taking some strange turns, she ended up stopping, not of her own free will, at a house that had balloons tied to the mailbox. She waited for a moment, and was surprised to see two children running towards her, saying "Hello, Mrs. Pansy!" Apparently, they called her by her last name, but she still refused to give that tidbit of information. She then somehow found her way to this house and saw Draco answered the door, and somehow knew the children were his. Half of her story couldn't be explained, and it was told in a horrible manner. She might as well have been sitting at a campfire holding a flashlight up her nose, because it sounded like something a six-year-old would come up with.

Harry relayed his story about his walking past various newsstands and seeing his face on the front of a magazine for Quidditch, and autographing little children's shoes and such. Really, his wasn't all that interesting, and they could see why he wasn't as nervous as they rest were.

"I woke up next to Draco and it scared the crap out of me."—Draco scoffed at this—"Gabriel was screaming at the top of his lungs, but I managed to burn some eggs and eat them. Then Ron and Hermione and all their children came, and when little people you don't know are calling you 'Aunt Ginny' it's really scary… I felt like Dorothy out of the Wizard of Oz, surrounded by all those little munchkins…"

At this, Harry giggled, though he tried to pass it off as a chuckle, it came out really high pitched.

"And we're in therapy," Draco announced, in a monotone sort of voice. Ron was impressed—Draco was actually participating.

"Well I knew you needed it, but what do you mean 'we'? As in, you and Ginny?" Harry grinned.

With a scowl, Draco opened his mouth to say some very nasty things in words that should not be printed or spoken in any language, but in a swift motion, a delicate hand covered his mouth. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, wiping her forehead with her free hand.

"Harry, I saved you from a cursing," She said happily, and scooted closer to Draco, so she could keep his mouth covered until she could smother him with the pillow.

Seeing this only infuriated Harry. Where once he thought he had given a good insult, all he had really done was encourage interaction between the most innocent girl he'd ever met, and the vilest snake that crawls upon the earth… All Harry's opinion, mind you.

Draco, who wasn't one to be controlled by a little Gryffindor girl, pulled her hand away and was about to speak, when she tossed the pillow in his face. Grabbing one off the couch for himself, they soon started a war, trying to kill each other, literally. As Ron was cheering on his sister and jumping up to choke Draco for trying to murder her, the girl on his lap awoke, saw the commotion, and grabbed a pillow of her own to start playing too. As she jumped in, giggling and squealing, hitting her Uncle Draco's back where he sat on his knees, cutting off all oxygen from Ginny's throat, all conflict stopped. Ginny gained a moment to breathe and see the girl fighting her uncle and having fun, before she threw her pillow at Draco's face again, catching him off guard as he was distracted by the insane little Weasley. 

Now Ginny was laughing. 

He was about to throw the pillow back at Ginny, but the little girl jumped in between them. Before he knew what was happening, Draco was smacked in the back of the head by Hermione, who was screaming "Don't you hurt my little girl!!" and Ron, who screamed at Hermione "DON'T SCREAM!!" Everyone was involved in the biggest pillow fight of the century, and none of them, save all the children that ran down the stairs to join in, had really good intentions. Half the participants were trying to kill Draco and the other half were just bopping each other on the head to see who could be knocked off the coffee table first (this was the child half.)

No one really heard the door open or anyone step in until the man cleared his throat as gently as possible. The frustrated screams of the adults and the inane squeals of the children died down as all gazes turned to the entryway.

"Pansy, dear, you never came back home. The baby was crying," Neville Longbottom stood on the tile, holding a small carrier in his right hand.

Pansy burst into tears, and Draco into laughter until being smothered with yet another pillow by an angry Ginny who claimed he was "very rude!"

****

Dumbledore closed his eyes and cleared his throat before taking off his half-moon spectacles. He put them against his sleeve's fabric and gave each lens a gentle rub until he thought them cleaned. Doing this in front of the entire student body only increased their anticipation for the coming news, as Dumbledore seemed to want to keep it a secret as long as possible. The mass of teenagers seemed to fidget simultaneously as every student squirmed in his seat. The anxious house members wanted to take out all their pent up energy on an opposing team—Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, to be specific. The inter-school war was raging, even now in the Great Hall as the headmaster was addressing it.

"I understand you are upset," It sounded as though he were talking to one individual instead of such a large group. His quiet tone somehow carried above the heads of all the children so he was heard well enough, but it didn't always guarantee their comprehension. "… But let me reassure you," He continued. "That your friends will be alright."

Cheers went up to the Great Halls ceiling, as the students stretched their arms to the sky in victory poses.

"…. Eventually."

They were silenced and the children froze in their positions.

"You see, children, they are suffering from a very rare sort of paralysis. The comatose they're in makes them believe they're living in the future… we don't know much right now, but we do know they're going to get the best treatment possible, and all the problems regarding their health shall be solved."

****

"Now, we don't know everyone's individual situation, but we do know you're all going to get the best treatment possible, and all the problems regarding your relationships will be solved! Just remember, we're here to help you!" The man's bow tie seemed to reflect every bit of light in the room, as it did much more than just dazzle the hall's occupants with its silvery sequins. Blinded, the people tried to get a good look at his face, but it didn't do much good to try. From the amount of light surrounding him, one might think he was a heavenly being, but once his mouth opened and a high-pitched voice came out, Satan was the only thing that came to mind. The man's drone wasn't low enough to comfort anyone—it was as though this fellow hadn't gone through puberty.

A woman shook her head and led each couple to a large, square room in which chairs were placed all around. The seats were lined up in pairs, with chains attaching two together, so they couldn't be pulled apart or attached to another chair. Ginny rolled her eyes, seeing the entire idea behind it all. 

They made the ladies walk in on the man's arm, to which Draco objected to so much, he just marched to his seat by himself, and let Ginny did the same. The man with the silvery bow tie smiled, seeing a challenge. The woman they had seen in the grocery store waved at them from across the room, her arm attached to a giant, grotesque bald man in black leather, who was currently spilling beer all over his goatee. He waved as well, but it was more to display all the chains looped around his wrist and arm than to greet the couple. 

Draco wondered if it would be too late to fake some sort of illness…

After some agonizing pleas, the leader of the therapy session took off his bowtie and had his seat at the head of the room where everyone could see him, microphone in hand. 

"Hello New York!"

No one made any sound, except a cricket, which was impolite enough to chirp.

"Oh yes, it's lovely this time of year. And speaking of cannibals—"

"Excuse me!" The woman from the grocery store eagerly waved her hand. "Is Dr. Edgeworthe going to be back again this week? I loved her tips on confronting your partner about addictions, habits, and such, and—"

"Well, did you do that?" The man asked, sporting a handlebar moustache and looking sorely disappointed that the lady had ruined the beginning of his joke. 

"Uh—well, I did confront, but the results weren't positive."

"Please, share," This man looked like he'd just walked out of the twenties, even the way his hair was styled. The part was in the middle exactly… Ginny wondered why she could never get her hair that perfect as she admired the man's red pinstriped vest.

"As you who have attended for a while know, my husband Robert—"

"Bob. I'm Bob," The man corrected, guzzling down some more beer.

"Bob…" The woman's face turned red as though she were trying to control the urge to slap the man's bald head silly. "Will not give up beer and someday it will kill him. Last week, I talked to him about this after our last session and he said—"

"I said it's none of her business whether I live or die." He received a couple cheers from other men scattered across the room, and slaps resounded quickly after them. Bob's wise words were revered silent, as none of the women had really paid attention, and the men were now scared to. Draco's eyes widened as he saw a large bruise form on one whimpering man's jaw.

Bob finished his beer and crushed the can against the side of his thick head.

"Well, that's my story," The woman finished. She smiled pleasantly at the man who looked like he had walked out of a different century, but in response, that man just shook his head.

"Bob's got no job."

The woman nodded slowly, as there was scattered laughter around the room. Her pleasant smile slowly began to droop.

"Bob's pretty much a slob."

One couple began to hum a tune that sounded like something that would have been played out of a harmonica in a jail cell.

"Mary's got some good taste, but all her time she does waste, buying beer cans up to the door knob."

"Oh!!" A very old woman in the back end of the room began applauding, orange lipstick on her forehead. "That was very clever!" The man nodded and held up his hand as though fending off the small claps she was giving. 

"Like the one about the man from Peru!" Her partner shouted, equally disoriented in old age.

The man who had formerly worn the most horrid bowtie in the history of the earth suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and instead persisted, "What I'm saying, Mary is that you bought your husband all the beer he consumed this past week. Why do you encourage this sort of behavior?"

Apparently these words were too long for Mary, and she had to stutter a minute to break them down. Once done, she began to think to herself and really question the logic in what he had just said. That being done, the man continued.

"Okay, let's all start back at the beginning. Let's just pretend it's week one… we'll all go around and introduce ourselves, all right? Nice… and slow," He laid a hand on his chest and sat straighter in his chair, proudly. "I am Thomas Dirdle, this is my wife Greta—" He pointed to a plump woman in the corner of the room, who was setting up a refreshment table. "And we have one son, little Tommy."

The old woman in the back with the lipstick on her face clapped again.

Draco slumped back in his chair and pressed his finger tips against his forehead as he felt yet another migraine arrive. _This,_ he thought, _was going to be a looooong night._

****

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!! Jonathon got a new block set, come see!!" The energetic little girl (who had a real sense of originality) had come to be known as Rose, probably for her cheeks, as she was always running around. She had a habit of tugging on Hermione's pants leg repeatedly or jumping up and down when she wanted attention. Her jump rope in one corner, and a discarded doll in the other, she preferred things that took up time and energy and wasted good resources, like oxygen.

This was the child that never left Hermione alone for more than five seconds.

The twins were currently begging Ron to be named directly after their other Uncles—Fred and George, maybe you've heard of them—instead of Forge and Gered. Gered was upset, since the traditional soft 'g' had been kept at the beginning of the name, and it sounded like "dread" of which he had just learned the meaning, and now utterly despised. Forge didn't know what forge really meant, but he thought Fred or George would be catchier, and Neville somehow told him it would get him more women when he got older.

Ah, Neville. As he was currently arguing with Pansy (who had apparently, locked him in a closet out of pure embarrassment) no one really asked what his day was like or what he thought of the entire situation. They had spent all their time until seven just taking care of children and trying to figure out what they would do with the Malfoy flock when the parents left home for counseling. Difficult decisions were made, and though Ginny had felt guilty about leaving Hermione to take care of such a large brood, she had expected Ron, Harry, Neville, and Pansy to help. 

However, things didn't work out this way.

Hermione was setting things in the kitchen on fire, proving to herself once and for all that she really couldn't cook. In her haste, she ordered a pizza and forgot to tell them it was supposed to be delivery, so she had to pile all the children (who followed her) into her gigantic mini van and go all the way across town for food that was half way eaten by the time they got home. The adults, who complained about pieces of pizza with little teeth marks in them, were soon sent away in their own respective cars to find their own take-out. Harry came back with Chinese, Ron with a sub sandwich, Neville with a wide variety of doughnuts, and Pansy with a salad. As they all picked at their food, Hermione realized she didn't have any, and went without dinner for the night.

****

Ginny looked around the room at all the expectant stares coming from the circle of chained chairs. With a nervous little laugh, she found herself fidgeting with sweaty palms. 

"Oh…" She muttered. "Our turn?" She hadn't really been paying attention. Draco rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, as if saying 'there is no way I am related to her by choice. no one could make me commit such a sin.' In a span of two seconds flat. 

"Well, we're… the Malfoys. I'm Ginny, and this is Draco," Many people around the room smiled, somehow delighted by her accent. "We have three children: Jonathon, Ebony, and…" She paused, a bead of sweat dripping down her freckled cheek.

"Gabriel. An infant," Draco mumbled, slumped in his seat. With a slap on the arm from Ginny, he quickly sat up and crossed his arms to show how uncomfortable he was, giving her an odd glare. Again, the man at the head of the room grinned at the couple and went onto the next pair.

****

Yay! That was out sooner than the last one was—goody! Okay, gee, that was fun. I'm glad I got that out so soon… I couldn't really help it, I was inspired. I hope you guys liked it, and keep checking back for the next chapter. Hopefully I'll have that one out soon too. Hey, Christmas break is coming up! 

…. After finals week.

Truly,

Maura Belle


	4. The Calm Before the Storm

Author's Notes: hey guys. While I've been listening to Audioslave, and checking my e-mails, it hit me that I had a couple people who actually WANTED to see this story continue! I didn't think you guys liked it that much, but okay. Here's the next chapter you just ACHED for. ^_^

Disclaimer: what? You think I own this?

Chapter Four: The Calm Before the Storm

"What trouble has Ron gotten himself into now…?" Mrs. Weasley grumbled as she stomped, hunched over, through the dungeon halls. Mr. Weasley was walking nervously beside her, muttering a little incoherent nonsense about it "not being that bad." He was promptly ignored as the couple finally reached the end of the stone-adorned hall, a large wooden door as entrance to their destination. 

Upon opening it, their starved eyes were greeted, not with a great lot of stone, as they were accustomed to seeing in dungeons, but a large, beautifully furnished office. The latter trait was what truly astonished Mrs. Weasley, who decided only a sort of magic she had never learned in school could make a cellar this cozy.

Taking a seat, she and her husband began to recount all of Ron's glorious adventures (and those that happened to come only with spots of bad luck, which Ron ran into often.) Ginny, who was another reason the Weasley heads-of-house had been called to Hogwarts, didn't really have too many interesting situations she'd had to pull herself out of. They were able to recall the many pranks Fred and George had pulled on her, what with Ginny being the only girl and all (although that matter could be debated upon if one thinks of how shrill Ron screams when he sees a spider.) 

As they were laughing, the lavishly decorated door was opened a second time that hour, as Lucius Malfoy and Vernon Dursley (eyes bulging) tried to enter at the same time. Lucius was fit enough that he could have made it if Dudley weren't also trying to get his immense mass past Mr. Malfoy's knees. 

With an irritated scowl, Lucius worked up enough effort and energy to yank out his wand and instantly, the two Durselys were compressed in two boxes of cardboard. Mr. Dursley's incoherent hollers about "loonies" were muffled by the bubble wrap, and Dudley's face turned purple as he noticed the packaging tape that had been placed over his mouth and nose.

"Lucius!" Mr. Weasley stood with a frown gracing his already aggravated features. Malfoy straightened himself and took a seat farthest from the Weasleys. "That's hardly fair! They can't defend themselves!"

Mrs. Weasley, feeling another Muggle-rights speech coming on, got straight to the point. "Let them go, you snotty snake!"

Lucius gasped at the insult (as though amazed someone had dared to defy his stature) and raised his wand a second time to place Mrs. Weasley in some tupperware, when Snape walked in. Without thinking, he returned the Dursleys to their original nervous states and brought a fainted Petunia in from the hall. Her head knocked against the wall two or three times, but the snoring woman refused to wake.

He sat down in his own chair, muttered some little thing about Dumbledore arriving in a moment, and began a load of paperwork behind his desk, which sat in the corner. The Grangers walked in sometime later, greeted warmly with smiles from the Weasleys, and sat down as well.

After them, a woman with downcast eyes, beautifully blonde, but wearing black. She took her seat beside Lucius, and calmly asked him (by whispering in his ear) what was the matter with their little boy, as though he were still in his first year. After a moment of dull silence, she looked to Mrs. Weasley. 

"Your boy is Ron, isn't it?" her look was that of pure innocence. Numb, Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I recall that name, fairly well… Is he one of Draco's friends? I've never heard a bad thing about Ron; he must know my boy."

Mrs. Weasley was too stiff to move. Did this woman ever get out of her house? Did she know how her son and husband treated other people or had she just been hit on the head a bit too hard? Jumping to conclusions, the plump woman silently gasped. Maybe Lucius was abusive and that was why Draco was so cruel to other children and why Mrs. Malfoy had amnesia… and perhaps he was in the Mafia too, and on the weekends, went out to Vegas and gambled! Or kick-boxed for money! Oh, Mrs. Weasley thought. What a horrible man! He probably bet on horse races! There was a chance Mrs. Malfoy had discovered his drug-smuggled secret, and he'd knocked her out cold to keep her from telling! Maybe Voldemort was really hiding out in Brazil, making millions on tobacco…. Was tobacco in Brazil? Wait, where did tobacco come from anyway?

"Ron and Draco," Mrs. Weasley eyed the woman suspiciously, "know each other."

"Marvelous! He must come over sometime! Draco seldom keeps any friends at the house, though he never really seems lonely. I think he's worried he'll interrupt his father's work or something, because he knows how important that is. Lucius is always chattering away with so many boring people Draco ought to have someone over to keep him company!" Mrs. Malfoy clapped her hands once, an excited expression on her face.

"Yes…" Mrs. Weasley's eyes weren't inside her head anymore.

"You have a daughter too, don't you? Jennifer? Jean…" She put a finger to her chin and looked up, trying to remember so the small talk could proceed.

After a little stuttering, Mrs. Weasley could speak. "Ginny." Who'd have thought the Malfoy woman would be so friendly?

"Oh, that's right! Ginny!" Her smile grew wider and a look on her face appeared that rather scared good-natured Mrs. Weasley. "We hear enough about her at our house."

******

"Draco! Do you realize what you're doing?!" Ginny screamed, hands placed firmly on her hips. "You've got your ribcage on backwards!!"

Confused, Draco paused the race and sat back on his heels to observe his work. The wooden dinosaur skeleton didn't look very menacing, as they head wouldn't stay on staright, it was only two feet tall, and as Ginny perceived, the rib cage was definitely wrong. And Malfoys were supposed to be geniuses, Ginny thought. Where are his prized genes now?

"DONE!" A couple in the back had finished assembling their Tyrannosaurus Rex first.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wong are the winners!" Draco rolled his eyes. As if everyone didn't already know… Jumping up and down for joy, (they had won a stereo,) the couple ended up having their own little smooch fest right beside the T-Rex, the least appropriate of places. "Mr. and Mrs. Wong…" Mr. Dirdle began, a twinkle in his eye and one under his handlebar mustache too, as he was smiling and the light reflected off his perfect teeth, "You may leave for you show of affections and genuine love for one another in happy times."

The now-happy couple--for they certainly that way when they had walked in around six—entwined their two hands together and walked off, beaming. 

"W-waitaminute…" Ginny stuttered, blinking rapidly as though something horrid had just passed her line of vision. "They got to leave early… just because they won a stupid little game?!" She unconsciously pointed at Mr. Dirdle, as though accusing him of holding the many other couples prisoner. The old pair in the back, however, had clasped hands, threw off their hats (of which they each had three), and run out the doors on their own. No one was really ready to try to stop _them_. 

"No, no, Mrs. Malfoy!" The therapist grinned, watching Ginny cringe. She hated that name, and had once thought it was the ugliest thing she had ever heard, especially when she thought of the person it belonged to. Now it was worse, and, if possible, even uglier, since it was a name that now belonged to her. She whimpered audibly. "They left because they kissed… willingly." His grin widened as he adjusted his cuff links. Ginny sulked at both the idea of kissing Draco and the thought of staying in this madhouse. Mr. Dirdle, however, droned on, his little boy Tommy bouncing a ball at his side. 

"A kiss is the best way to show affection to your partner. Here, we are dedicated to achieving the best in your marriages, so… we would like it very much if you could kiss and just leave, so we could pay attention to those with real problems."

Ginny turned her red head to face Draco who hadn't heard a word anyone had said, and was chunking pieces of the stupid wooden model (which was supposed to teach cooperation) at other couples around the room, a few of which were kissing. He congratulated himself as he hit one couple in the small space where their lips connected, though he slouched when he saw it didn't really affect their kiss. He was hoping to knock a tooth out.

"Draco!" He turned suddenly, alarmed. Oh… it was her. That woman never ceased to find something to scream at him for, though now she seemed to be having a little trouble with her words. Perhaps she was searching for the perfect insult, or the best sort of slang to use in this situation. Maybe her anger had finally boiled up to a point where her veins would pop, and he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. He could call his house and pretend he was the police, telling Potter he and Ginny had just been killed in a car accident, and they wouldn't be coming home for supper. 

"KISS ME!" Now, at this point, Draco had convinced himself that he was hallucinating. It worked rather well and he wasn't really bothered by her request for quite some time. 

Then she repeated her demand.

And it scared the crap out of him.

"WHAT?!" His eyes widened and he blinked rapidly, afraid he would lose them if they bulged out anymore. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, as fear made his body tremble. He wasn't hesitant to show Ginny frightened him. Heck, she must have threatened him into marrying her. That's the sort of thing that happens when you turn out so darn good-looking…

"I said," Ginny looked down at the floor. "I want you to kiss me." 

"No!" Draco gasped. He was so astonished, he could barely breathe.

"Listen, if you and I kiss, we can get out of this mess and _go home_!" Her expression turned to that of a pout as her eyes finally met his rather large ones. "Please, Draco?" 

"I… I… That is… We… We're… not even friends!" He stuttered. His speech just hadn't been what it used to be.

"Yes we are!" Ginny grabbed his hand, showing him his own ring. "We're practically married!! We have three kids! We must have kissed thousands of times before this! It shouldn't be so hard!"

"I… I don't know what kind of sandwiches you like. Or what day of the week you were born on. Or your favorite color. Or your favorite movie. Or—"

"Draco!" Ginny scowled. "How does that matter in one little kiss?"

"Well, if you like ham and cheese sandwiches, I could think it means something to kiss you."

Ginny's dumbfounded expression preceded her words. "Why?"

"Because then at least, we'd have something else in common besides these two little rings and the fact we hate each other!"

At the mention of them, Ginny looked down at her own hand, wondering vaguely why Draco, coming from the family he did, couldn't have afforded better. Not that she was complaining or anything, since the stone on hers outdid Hermione's, but she could have sworn his family was "in the money." These were earlier thoughts, and her later ones turned to his last comment. "I don't hate you, Draco." She muttered. "I never really did."

Couples were being turned out of the doors left and right.

"I was just always disappointed in you. People had always spoken so highly of your family. I thought you'd be a little nicer to people, that's all."

Mr. Dirdle looked to Ginny and Draco, who were the only ones sitting calmly on the floor. Every other couple was arguing, getting into slap fights or wondering why they hadn't kissed earlier in the session. Men who had rediscovered their wives were inviting them out to dinner, which all of them sorely needed, as it was nine o' clock.

"You upset me so much. I don't know why you have to be so angry with me all the time." 

There were about fifteen couples left.

Finally, Ginny just sucked it up and spoke to Draco like an equal, not some scum that always insulted her looks or her family, or the superior snot who was always putting everyone down. They were in the same boat, now.

"I was born on a Friday and I hate ham sandwiches. My favorite is turkey, and I have this odd obsession with pineapple sandwiches too! I don't like cats, I'm a dog person, and my favorite ice cream is strawberry, partly because it's pink and partly because I like strawberries too! My favorite color is red and sometimes I think that's the only reason I was chosen into Gryffindor because no one else in my class pays much attention to me! My favorite movie is The Little Mermaid, but I also like that old Shirley Temple film made in the thirties called Captain something where she danced with a man named Epson, who would later portray Uncle Jed in the Beverly Hillbillies! Uncle Jed, this year, is 95, and I like to keep up with stuff like that because it interests me!! Shirley Temple represented the US in the UN and my favorite show is Happy Days because I have a crush on Fonzie who isn't young anymore either!!"

Ginny had no time to catch her breath after her speech, as Draco had finally complied with her request.

********

"Spiderman! Spiderman! Does whatever a spider can! Spins a web! Any size! Catches thieves! Just like flies!" Hermione rubbed her temples, squeezing her eyes shut and believing that if she rubbed hard enough, she might just wake up. But when she opened her eyes, the same sight was before her. The children were smacking each other with pillows and trying to arrange couch cushions so that it looked vaguely similar to a "fort." Rose, the wildest of them all, was attacking everyone with barbie dolls, claiming that barbie was really into espionage, so she had an excuse to hurt her siblings and cousins. 

Neville and Pansy's little adopted Chinese baby was wailing at the top of her lungs, and Pansy refused to pick the thing up. As Neville tried to calm it, Pansy started a wailing of her own, saying things that bordered on threats and marriage vows.

Ron, hearing the commotion, raced down the stairs and gathered his two oldest (and one of the middle) children up in his arms, hoisting them up the stairs. The oldest of the three was upside down, hitting his head on each step, and laughing uncontrollably. The other two were screaming something about "Daddy's a monster! Daddy's a monster!" and were sticking their little fingers into his eyes and ears. His response consisting of menacing growls and fake attacks on the little boys' stomachs. The twins followed up the stairs, the smaller ones crawled and the infant giggled, as though she knew what was going on. Pansy, seeing Ron had calmed everything down in a span of a few minutes, and actually paying attention to Neville's attempts at calming their own child, stopped her crying and resorted only to sniffles and dabbing at her nose with a tissue.

Hermione blinked a few times, her gaze following the path her husband had taken up the stairs. A smile bloomed on her face, though she hardly noticed it had been the first smile she'd had all day, and at Ron's expense. She arranged the couch cushions back as they were, and carried the extra pillows upstairs to the pallets that had been made for the children in Jonathon's room. She ended up giving each of her children a goodnight kiss, barely being able to recall all the horrible things they'd put her through in one day alone. As she said goodnight to all of them, it hit her that she was using their names… a trait to each of the children she hadn't thought she'd known that morning.

"Good night, Peter." The oldest got his kiss last, and then Hermione was downstairs. 

She carried with her two blankets. One was a sheet and the other, rather fluffy, as she didn't know how cold it would be that night. Harry had taken a chair in the children's room to keep an eye on them during the night, and was already knocked out by Mr. Sandman's best stuff. Neville and Pansy were in Ebony's room, separated by five different pillows in the girl's rather large bed. So the only place for Hermione or Ron was the couch. It stretched out to make a rather comfortable bed, and each helped to spread the sheet and the blanket over the entire length of it. Hermione took off her shoes and climbed into the bed beside Ron. 

For the oddest of reasons, she did not find it as uncomfortable or awkward as she thought it should have been.

*******

Dumbledore finally entered the room, an argument and a card game of BS later. Mrs. Malfoy had continued to chatter on and on about her "little boy" and why during the summer he should have Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all over for a little holiday. "Why they could do all sorts of fun things together!" She had declared, not even noticing another couple walk in, the Parkinsons, and an elderly woman, who was Neville's grandmother. By the same vague request they were all there, and each was greeted warmly by the headmaster.

"Now," He began by using a whisper, "I should ask you not to worry yourselves. Your children are fine…."

All the mothers in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

"… To an extent."

Their breath caught in their throats.

"They are in a comatose state, and are not likely to wake up out of this 'spell' unless we take drastic measures."

"What?!" Mrs. Malfoy's manicured hand flew to her mouth. "What's happened to my little boy? Who did this to him? Why, he doesn't have an enemy in the school! No one speaks a bad word about him! He makes friends with everyone, why would someone do this to him?!"

"There is no culprit in this crime, Mrs. Malfoy," Dumbledore addressed her calmly. "It was a Potions accident and is no one's fault." He stressed the last part as a few stray glances had been shot at Snape. The Dursleys had no idea what was going on, but their spirits were raised a little bit when they heard Harry was out of their hair and in a coma.

********

"Sir? Your order's ready," The waiter had been standing in front of the table for five minutes straight, and had had to resort to interrupting the avid conversation of the couple before them. He had been calling the table number for ten minute's time before that, and was growing impatient with their lack of attention. When they finally acknowledged his presence, he handed them their bags and cups, and said goodbye curtly.

A short drive later, one could find them sitting on a bench on the fisherman's docks, admiring the many boats that had called it quits and hung up their nets for the day. They ate their burgers and fries in silence, barely recalling the morning's events.

"What's your favorite tree?" Draco asked, after a sip of his drink.

"Honestly," Ginny talked through her fries, "I'm torn between Bradford Pears and Dogwood trees. Oh, and I like the look of Magnolia too," She paused for a moment, watching a lone sailboat float by. "What's yours?"

"Oak."

"Well, you're a lot more decisive than I am, I'll tell you that." 

"I just know what I like. You're picky."

Ginny gasped. "I am not!" 

"Yes you are. It took you fifteen minutes to decide what you wanted from the one-page menu! It took you all day to tell me what sort of ice cream you liked best and I know that's because you hadn't chosen."

Ginny laughed, trying to hold her drink in so she wouldn't spew it all over the person next to her. Draco moved a few inches away from her, and, taking another bite of his burger looked ready to jump at any moment. 

"You know," She started, after she had calmed down. "I'm probably going to hate you again tomorrow."

He nodded. "I know."

"And everyone else is going to be angry with you too. Hermione and Harry and especially Ron. My brother may always hate you."

He nodded again. 

"I don't know about the kids though. They may love you to death for all I know," She finished off the last fry. "But I'm going to make you take care of the baby, so just, steel your nerves for that one, all right?"

He rolled his eyes.

"And since I'm going to hate you tomorrow, Draco, I thought I'd tell you, now…" She stopped just as the sailboat left her line of vision, beyond the horizon at which the sun had set a long time ago, "… that it was nice, just having a quiet night. The first time in forever I haven't been worried about what's going to happen when I wake up." She met his gaze for the first time since she had started speaking, and with a calm tone, started again. "I hate school, Draco. I hate all those pressures in school and I hate the work and I hate my friends. I hate the teachers, who hate me, and I hate their classes. I know everyone else just wants to get back and stop living in whatever sort of place we're in," The sailboat started coming back, "but I'm not upset anymore.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, for once."

Draco nodded.

*****

Author's notes: WOW that was a little fluffier than I sorta wanted it to be. Anywho, to all you who wanted the new chapter HERE IT IS and I really hope you're happy with it. I was in a writing mood and I'm really proud of myself for getting this done (at last.) Please don't forget to tell me what you think! Review, review, review!


	5. Divide and Conquer

The Erised Effect  
Chapter Five: Divide and Conquer  
  
A fiction by: Maura Belle  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated, and that's  
that.  
  
~*~  
  
Students headed towards the Great Hall stopped dead in their tracks, as though caught by headlights (though this analogy isn't entirely appropriate in the wizarding sense) to see the parents of the injured students walking in a slow procession down the halls. A few snuck around corners to follow them and see how things were turning out in that part of the situation. The reactions on the faces of the adults varied greatly, as observed by Crabbe and Goyle, who were probably the most determined to find out just what Dumbledore had told them, and how it would have differed from his address to the students.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked numb all over, and was being led down the hall by Mr. Weasley, who was gripping her shoulders to steady the large woman. She looked paler than one of the house ghosts, and shook violently with fear. Her quivering cause her to mumble incoherent things as though trying to convince herself it wasn't true at all. The Parkinsons walked dangerously close to the Malfoys, taking the news rather well. They, like Lucius, looked rather bored with the whole thing, and just wanted it to be over with so they could get back to their own adult business. Narcissa, however, was taking it the worst of them all. She was bawling into her husband's robes, and pounding at his nonchalant face with a small, angry fist. Her face was red and her eyes puffy, and every time she would bring it out of his robes, it would be angry, then go through an amazing transformation and turn exceptionally depressed and she would resume her crying. Lucius could be seen rolling his eyes every time this occurrence took place. The Durselys sported looks of utter amazement as they walked through the corridors of the giant castle and Mrs. Dursley squealed every time she saw a gargoyle. Naturally, they made wonderful targets for Peeves.  
  
Neville's grandmother was in a state of shock, far worse than Mrs. Weasley's. Walking as though she didn't will it, she muttered things like "can't lose 'im. not 'im too."  
  
The Grangers walked beside the Weasleys, silent and reverent as though they didn't want to add to the chaos. Their calm nature was obviously passed down to Hermione, who never had time for idle things that got in the way of her studies, such as being fearful.  
  
And so they walked on until they made it to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore opened the door slowly after a combination of wand waves, temporarily removing a spell that was placed to keep all the hysterical students out. The wooden creak of it startled a few of them, as it slowly showed itself to be much thicker than originally perceived. Finally, it allowed them passage into the large and separated Hospital Wing. Upon first sight, there was nothing there. All the beds were empty and everything was clean and sterile, as though no child had been in there since the last Quidditch match last month. But then, looking closer, they could see a row of curtains protecting the far end of the room, to which all the parents rushed as though they could be their child's saving grace.  
  
The curtains were ripped off their hooks, trampled on, and torn to shreds before the entire crowd made it over them. Dumbledore walked slowly behind, calm, and as though there was nothing there that interested him at all. But the parents of the injured children all crowded around their own child's bed. Mrs. Weasley was torn between crying over Ginny or Ron first. Her decision was soon made, as she kneeled between their beds and just wept in the wall's direction, her husband's hand on her shoulder as he wept with her. Lucius looked down at his son as though he were disgusted, wondering how Draco could have gotten himself into this mess. Narcissa fainted, and saw nothing else of Draco's pale, immobile face, but what she would see over the rest of their Christmas break.  
  
****  
  
Immobile, though it seemed to fit, was not really the correct word to use to describe Draco. He, like many of his peers, spent most of the day rushing around trying to take care of all the children, preparing them and all their things and all their toys to be packed up in the minivan that belonged to the Weasleys. They were finally going back to their own house, at their own suggestion. They thought it would be better if they all just left to their own separate homes, to figure out what they were all doing here, or at least what they had done before they arrived. They were to find and compile all clues that pointed to the most ancient and the most recent, to see what kind of people they really were. Harry did nothing to help anyone gather up their things, as he was the most hesitant to leave, probably even more so than Pansy, who would be leaving to a home somewhere in the country, where she lived with Neville.  
  
She was dawdling, putting things in the baby's diaper bag as slowly as possible. Harry played with his Quidditch jacket. Neville was trying to help Pansy so they could leave faster. He was in the best mood of them all.  
  
Hermione and Ron kept bumping into each other and blushing, carrying various children to the car and having to carry them back after they figured out how to unbuckle themselves from their seats and run off. Ginny was packing up half-eaten sandwiches and sending extra cans of various things in boxes just so Hermione could have something at home to feed all seven children so she could keep her sanity for a few more days, at least. Ron was incredibly helpful in getting everything packed up, and even managed to tell a few stories about seeing monsters under the car so the children wouldn't hop out anymore.  
  
Though everyone may not have been mentally prepared, they were physically. Hermione smacked her hands together as though swiping dust off of them and gave a grateful sigh at the sight of a full van, packed and ready to go. She turned to Ginny and quickly gave her a hug before hopping into the passenger side of the car to doze and try to calm her bunched up nerves. Ron gathered up the last box and then turned to hug his sister as well, after a quick warning to be careful and to ring them should anything happen or anything of any importance be found. She nodded, understanding, and laughed quietly as he warned Draco as well, that if she was hurt in any way, Ron would rip off his head and spit down his neck, among various other horrible things that he kept under his voice so the children wouldn't hear.  
  
Finally, after all their goodbyes and well wishes, they were gone. Neville and Pansy went in separate cars as they had arrived, the baby riding with the father, after a serious of severe arguments.  
  
The house seemed immensely quieter, until Harry stood up and finally looked around to realize that he was going to be the last one to leave. He looked at Ginny and Draco expectantly, and then around the house until his eyes laid on each of the children separately. Gabriel was in Ginny's arms, dozing peacefully now that there were no more screaming children rushing about. Ebony was at the table playing with the cutlery, and Jonathon walked up to his father's side, taking his hand and tugging on it, to ask if he could watch a little television before lunch. Harry's eyes followed Jonathon to the living room, and then trailed after Ebony as she went too.  
  
Then, with a great, heaving sigh, he pulled up his jacket. "I guess I'm alone," He said with a serious, pained expression, and headed towards the door.  
  
Ginny stuttered a few things before she found her voice, "Harry!" She waved her hand as though it could stop him in his path through the garden. He turned and took a few steps back, as though knowing what she was going to say. She opened her mouth to say what she was going to, to invite Harry to stay with them instead of going back to where ever he was and being alone, but then suddenly changed her mind. She put her lips together and smiled gently before speaking what she had decided on. "Give us a call if you find anything, alright?"  
  
Looking greatly disappointed, he nodded and numbly walked on, carrying his jacket on his arm while he had no need for it in the warmer Florida weather.  
  
Ginny watched him go for a moment before she turned to see Draco walk towards the living room with a great big smile on his face.  
  
****  
  
Days passed. The students and house war raged and floundered, sometimes being in great bouts of sadness and despair, and other times, making attempts to be optimistic about the fate of their fellows. The parents were given rooms in the castle, as most of them decided to stay there until their child was able to join them. Many of the adults would rush off on brooms lent by the school (as one cannot apparate from inside Hogwarts) towards the working world to insure that they kept their livelihoods while their children dozed through theirs. Dumbledore and Snape worked furiously together on various potions or concoctions, but nothing seemed to work. They turned from trying to find the cure to trying to find the problem, and both became so frustrated that they agreed not to hold any more potions classes so that they could head every day on the progression of the case. The Ministry had no need to get involved, and they honestly didn't care to, until the Minister visited his daughter's house.  
  
One Wednesday, Fudge rushed in with two other Ministry officials, his face purple and his eyes so red it looked as though they would fall out of his head with the slightest jerk of his neck. This however, was impossible on more than one account, the first being that Fudge's muscles were so tense he couldn't twitch if he wanted to, and walked only through his incredible determination to find the Headmaster. When he finally did, he was outraged and fierce, approaching Dumbledore as though the Headmaster were a child who had done something very terrible and serious, such as destroying a vase or breaking a window or something severe that required punishment.  
  
Lucius chuckled a bit as he saw the Minister in this sort of state. He quickly turned it into a cough as Narcissa began to laugh at him.  
  
"You sent me an owl a few days ago," He huffed, face turning a deep purple that made Uncle Vernon proud. "Talking some gibberish about some students who couldn't wake up or something. I thought it was a joke."  
  
Professor McGonagoll said a little "hmph!" at this.  
  
"But look! I went to visit my daughter on my vacation-my day off-and look what I find!!" He made a great flourishing wave towards the two Ministry officials that had come with him, and everyone finally noticed the children in their arms. Fudge looked to Dumbledore, and, upon getting no response, gathered his robes in his pudgy fists and pulled the Headmaster towards him in a violent motion. "WELL?! What's happened?! How did you rope my grandchildren into this?! What have you done this time, Dumbledore? I know you're behind this! I know it was you-information tells me-I can't blame. anyone. else." His hysterical screams wavered and waned until they finally turned into little bursts of sobs, the tears of which, fell into Dumbledore's robes.  
  
Lucius sneered behind his hands at the sight of the Minister. Narcissa shared his sense of humor and made a comment about what a crybaby the Minister of Magic was. The two of them began making snide little jokes as though they were school children again. Mrs. Longbottom gasped and pointed at the unruly couple, declaring she knew where Draco "got it from."  
  
Dumbledore led Fudge to Mrs. Weasley, who had never ceased crying, and they whimpered together, joined by many random crying students who had been watching from the hallway. The Headmaster detached himself from the chaos surrounding him, a mixture of laughter and jeers and sobs and wails, and stepped forward to observe the children.  
  
"Fudge.?" He began. The Minister turned, still sniffling, and moved to join him.  
  
"Yes?" He mumbled as he blew his nose on a flowery hankie.  
  
"Have your grandchildren always had such wonderfully blond hair?" He made a motion towards the sleeping girl and boy. With a gentle hand, the Headmaster reached forward and tucked the little girl's lacy white dress back under the arms of the official holding her.  
  
Fudge shook his head. "I expect it was the SHOCK of whatever spell was put on them." And with that statement, he moved to his own little corner to pull out a wallet with smiling moving pictures of himself and his grandkids, which he tossed to Dumbledore. The Headmaster caught it and observed the pictures, matching the children to those there, though in the pictures, they had brilliantly dark hair.  
  
He made a few glances to his immobile students, the children, the pictures, the parents. He lifted the children's eyelids to see the color beneath them. He paced here and there. He looked all around the room until he had taken everything in and considered every bit of information they had been presented with and made the connection.  
  
His face drained of all color as he motioned for the Ministry officials to set the children on their own separate beds. These beds he rolled over to those that contained the damaged students and set them in between two of the beds. He stood back and stared at the four beds he had arranged and then nearly fainted.  
  
"My word." He muttered under his breath.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, curious as to what he was doing, stood beside him to see what he was seeing. Once she had, she fainted. Lucius did the same, falling into his wife's grip. Narcissa looked up and saw what the rest of them beheld, and with wide eyes asked, "What does this mean?"  
  
"What does what mean?" Fudge demanded. "I don't-see it." Then he saw, and understood, and passed out as well.  
  
Madame Pomfrey began fanning him and made a little muttering about all this fainting having to stop before she gave up her job.  
  
****  
  
Jonathon didn't laugh when his favorite cartoon's eyes bulged or when he was flattened like a pancake. He didn't laugh at anything on television, a trait he had obviously picked up from Draco, who didn't laugh either. He didn't see anything funny in those exploding cartoons. They were just violent. If he wanted violent, he'd watch wrestling or something. Ginny rushed around the house, looking for things and complaining about her lack of help, but Draco barely noticed. In fact, he had been sitting on the couch for the most of the day, going through different calendars and appointment books, and making up excuses to borrow Ebony's unicorn diary so that the girl wouldn't be too upset him reading it.  
  
Actually, that girl didn't really display anything openly either. Just as Jonathon didn't laugh and lacked a sense of humor, she didn't do anything except play with her little dolls. She wore the same white dress every day, looking as though she were ready for a party or something, and was silent as she brushed her long white blonde hair. These activities made up her day, and she seldom did anything else.  
  
Draco was interrupted from his observations when Ginny sat on the couch opposite him, shoving his feet off so she could have more room for herself and her large box.  
  
"Finally," She breathed. "I found photos."  
  
She opened the box and set about to shifting through the many pictures until she found a nice organized album to glance through. Turning through the pages, she realized that she herself was seldom in these pictures, meaning she obviously took them. She also noticed that they all looked considerably younger in the photos, and it was the first time that she became aware of the differences in their appearances. To this thought, she looked up at Draco, who was also looking through an album and saw, as though for the first time, how much older he looked from their years together in school. His shoulders had broadened, he'd become taller, and he had turned into a wonderfully handsome man. Realizing what she was thinking, Ginny shook her head as though to shake the thought away. Her efforts, however, were in vain, and for as long as she was sitting beside him, and longer, she would think only of him and the children. She was enveloped in her own little world and was constantly marveling everyday at the family she had made.  
  
"Look at this," Draco's words snapped her out of her daze. She leaned towards him, blushing only slightly and found she was in awe of the fact that she was not at all uncomfortable around him, as she used to be. He moved the album towards her as she leaned over the box, her hand resting on his strong shoulder for support.  
  
"Oh my word," Ginny whispered slowly. "I can't believe you found these." She looked up at him to see his gaze meet hers only moments later as they both shared the same expression of surprise and astonishment.  
  
"What?" Ebony walked towards the couch and looked at the album as well, from where she was standing beside her father. Jonathon joined them too, taking the box off and allowing Ginny to scoot even closer towards Draco. Ginny could only call it a reflex or an action that came from her subconscious, but she reached out and helped the boy to her lap as Ebony climbed into Draco's. They all looked on as Draco slowly turned the pages of the photo album.  
  
"You look so pretty, Mommy," Ebony said quietly. "I like white dresses."  
  
Ginny felt a little guilty as she found pride in just how good she looked in her wedding dress. The veil had not yet been put on, and the pictures they were looking at had been taken in the dressing room as the bridesmaids had all lined up around her, right in front of the large mirrors. There was Pansy Parkinson, though Ginny could hardly begin to imagine why she had picked her to be a bridesmaid. Hermione, in this picture, was pregnant, which was the oddest of sights for them to see at that moment. Beside her were a few of Ginny's old school friends, a few of which she hadn't spoken to since fourth year. Turning the page, there was Draco straightening his bowtie and Lucius beside him, eyes rolled back as he finished off his glass of wine. Ginny couldn't help but think how old Lucius looked in that picture and those to follow, as though his son's own wedding caused him to age. Ginny could imagine it would. A Malfoy and a Weasley? Until just recently, even she had thought that sort of union was impossible. Past that was a great picture of the wedding ceremony. The happy couple was at the altar, holding hands. Hermione was on Ginny's side, the maid of honor, and Ron was on Draco's side as the best man. It was probably something requested by Ginny, and Draco agreed with her on this thought. He had no idea who he would have picked. He'd probably just left the whole planning up to her.  
  
After that came pictures of the reception. Ron and Hermione were trying to dance as best they could with Hermione's bulging stomach in between them, and Harry dipped a delicate Cho in his arms. These pictures were of when the floor was full of lively people. Even Lucius and Narcissa got out on one of the slow songs, though it looked like she tried to do the Charleston on it, and had to be dragged off by him. One shot that really made both Ginny and Draco laugh was one of their fathers. Mr. Weasley had his arm around Lucius's shoulders, a broad smile on his face. Lucius, however, was looking over at the afore-mentioned man with a gaze of controlled disgust, as though he were trying to smile, but it came out a sneer. Not even the pressures of the camera could make this man happy, and at that, Draco only continued to laugh harder.  
  
Ginny's laughter subsided, and Jonathon and Ebony's slowed considerably, but Draco was the last to finish. He was only seconds behind, but it was enough for Ginny to notice. It was the first time she'd seen him laugh, and it wasn't even at some cruel joke he'd made, or at anyone else's expense. It was just a photo.  
  
Turning the page there were further pictures of the reception. Everyone sat around eating and dishing out punch, and Draco and Ginny both snickered as they saw pictures of them feeding each other cake or wine. Like that would ever happen, Ginny thought. With a startling realization, however, she could figure that it did. She had the pictures, the proof. Even the children were proof that, at one point, Draco and Ginny had loved each other.  
  
Turning the page once more, this became even more obvious.  
  
The dance floor was empty, save for Ginny and Draco. And they were dancing together.  
  
"Daddy, you look happy," Ebony said quietly, pointing at a rather large picture, and it was true, as both took a closer look. Never before had either of them remembered being in such high spirits as they were in that picture. They looked so content with everything, and so lost in their own dance that they must have forgotten about all their family or friends or any other onlookers that might have been present. And now, they were so thankful that this moment had been captured, otherwise they would have never realized it.  
  
Determined to make her father as happy as he was in the picture, Ebony wiggled on his lap a bit until she had reached a position where she could lift up her hands and stretch Draco's mouth out and up, vaguely resembling a smile. His eyelids lowered, as though saying, There's no way I'm really going to put up with this. You just watch, in two seconds I'll scream my head clear off and she won't even try anything like that again. Insolent little child.  
  
However, as Ebony and Jonathon began to laugh, so much that his daughter's little hands fell, Ginny gave him a look that said she wouldn't allow profanity in this house again.  
  
They continued to look on, silent for the most part. Sometimes there was a picture to laugh at, such as Ginny's dance with her father, and then an undoubtedly forced dance with Draco's father. Draco also danced with his mother and Ginny's in turn, although Mrs. Weasley seemed much more permitted to it than Mr. Malfoy had been with the bride. Later, there were pictures of a honeymoon vacation. Draco and Ginny had gone to Hawaii and pictures were abundantly supplied to the album.  
  
Soon, though, the album closed and they were finished with it. Every page had been observed and every picture commented on. The family sat in silence, Ebony playing with her long, white blonde hair as she sat leaning against Draco. Ginny didn't realize she was still leaning against his shoulder, while Jonathon sat half on her lap, half on the couch. For a while, they all sat there, quiet and stationary, as it probably ran in their families to be. After what seemed like an eternity of peace and quiet, two qualities that none of them had ever really experienced before in their entirety, the doorbell rang, and as though on cue, the baby began to cry.  
  
Draco tensed and Ginny stood, startled beyond belief. At the same moment the phone started ringing. Jonathon scrambled and flopped on the floor where he had been flung when Ginny stood and pretended as though he couldn't get up. Ebony and Draco tried to get up at the same time to get either the phone or the door, both somehow completely forgetting the screaming baby. They soon tangled themselves in the blanket that draped over the back of the couch (for looks, no doubt, but now turned into a hazardous weapon) and both fell to the floor beside Jonathon, trying to get unknotted from their fabric prison. Draco sat up, finally free of the purple hazard, only for Ebony to continue to struggle and somehow drape part of the thing over his head. He fell back to the floor and, confused, tried to get it off, and pulled Ebony off the carpeted floor in the process. While they continued their little struggle, Ginny tripped over Jonathon and then got back up to answer the phone.  
  
"Malfoy residence, hold please," She promptly set the phone down and ran upstairs to get the baby, who was screaming its little head clear off. Draco commanded Jonathon to help him out of the blanket, but Jonathon left, bored with the whole situation. He later returned with a laundry basket, which he placed over his father's head and dashed off. Ebony gave up her futile attempts to escape so she could sit back and laugh at her confused father.  
  
Ginny raced down the stairs, the baby in her arms as Draco tried to persuade Ebony to help him get the blanket and basket off his head with the jingling coins in his pocket, and Jonathon opened the freezer to look for some ice cream. Ginny set the baby in an easier position in her arms so that she could yank off her husband's restrictive blanket prison. He quickly stood up, tossed Ebony a penny as promised and proceeded to straighten his hair out with a comb he pulled from his back pocket.  
  
"AAHHHH!!!" Draco covered his ears and Ginny covered the baby's as the highest pitched noise that any of them had ever heard came from Ebony's mouth.  
  
"WHAT?!" Both parents screamed, Ginny's hand above the doorknob and Draco's above his own head.  
  
"The man on the penny winked at me!!" She squealed, smiling that she was the center of attention in all of this chaos. Ginny smiled at her softly, while Draco rolled his eyes and continued to do what was otherwise known as "primping." Ginny picked the phone up and placed it rather hazardly close to her ear. She said her hellos to both the person on the phone, and then, as she opened the door, to the person on the other side of that.  
  
"Ginny? Ginny?" Pansy was bawling on the other line. "Neville and I-we got in this tremendous-"  
  
"Who is that? Who are you talking to? Is that Pansy? Hang up! GINNY!"  
  
Ginny was so startled by the expression on Neville's red face that her grip on the phone almost allowed her to drop it. Pansy continued to scream and cry incoherent things about wanting to speak to Neville, but the latter kept trying to grab the phone, likely to smash it to pieces against the brick entryway.  
  
"Neville, calm down! She's just called, I-"  
  
"What has she told you? She's probably lying-don't listen to her!!"  
  
"Neville," Pansy whined through the phone. He was getting through perfectly clear to her. Ginny could practically hear that little snot's heart breaking, though she had always imagined Draco would have been the one to do it.  
  
"Just hang up, Ginny. I mean it! I'm not joking!!" Neville's rage continued to grow. The call on the phone had only made him angrier and his breathing had become raspy, as it usually did when one's throat had closed on him. His vision became nothing more than a blur and he rushed forward unwisely, wobbling towards Pansy's higher voice.  
  
After that moment, everything happened too quickly. Neville's great flailing arms slammed down on the panel of switches, turning off the living room's lights, but turning on that of the kitchen, so that all Jonathon and Ebony saw were silhouettes of the struggling adults. Draco had rushed forth immediately after seeing Neville lunge at his wife. The phone clattered to the floor, but all the blood rushing in the distraught Neville's ears didn't allow him to hear it. He grabbed the person in front of him, which was Ginny, and instantly had a strong grip around her neck. He squeezed unconsciously and then allowed one of his hands to roughly grab the side of her head where her ear was, as though wanting to rip Pansy's voice out of it. Draco grabbed the arm that controlled the hand around Ginny's throat, and, prying it off, was able to get in between them, but not without consequences. Neville lashed out at him, landing his first punch right on Draco's face, not remembering the sort of penalty he gave out when he was struck. To the children, it was unsure who was hitting who, as both figures exchanged places several times and in rapid succession, one did a greater amount of damage to the other. Ginny somehow escaped the brawl, the baby screaming and struggling in her arms. She rushed over to where Jonathon and Ebony stood with dark expressions and apprehensive stances. The haste and urgency pumping in Ginny's blood was all that fueled her on. Her shock was weighting on her and pressuring her to pass out right there, but she kept moving. She led her children up the stairs and turned so sharply that she bumped harshly into the railing. Wincing, she pressed them all into her room; which was luckily one of the few doors in the house that actually supplied a lock. The others were the bathrooms, which were less comfortable, and the front door through which Neville had barged in to attack their family. Remembering this, and that they were not out of the woods just yet, they quickly turned the key and leaned against the door, sighing as though this simple action had solved their previous problem. But now there were fears and internal doubts to settle among the children and herself.  
  
Ginny looked down at the baby in her arms, which had continued to scream and cry all the way to the room and persisted even now in allowing everyone to know just how upset he was. She began to rock him back and forth, unconsciously rocking herself as she did.  
  
"It's alright, Gabe. It's alright. Shhh, shhh," She continued to try to comfort the child, and after a while, he quieted. Ebony sat quietly beside her mother, and Jonathon curled himself up on the other side of the bed, staring out into the space before him.  
  
"Jonathon? Why don't you come over here with Mommy, sweetheart?" Ginny spoke gently.  
  
He looked over at them, and, feeling a bit safer, began to crawl in their direction, when there was a great banging on the door. It seemed the whole room vibrated and shook, and Jonathon scooted back again.  
  
"It's okay kids," Ginny said, frantically. "It's alright. really." It seemed she were trying to convince herself as well.  
  
Neville's screams began to accompany the constant banging. "GINNY! I WANT TO TALK TO PANSY!!" The slur in his speech wasn't obvious, but it became clear in that sentence. Ginny led her children away once more, fearing that the lock would do them no good, or that the door wouldn't hold. In her panic, she began to lead them away again, into the bathroom. She placed Gabrielle in Jonathon's arms and commanded him to wait for her before he locked the door.  
  
She rushed over the small bookshelf that was against the wall, and using the strength that came with adrenaline, began to push it over towards the door. When she finally made it, the noise and the banging had ceased, and Draco's muffled voice could be heard on the other side, as well as the rapid exchange of blows. Ginny dashed off to the adjoining bathroom and gripped the doorknob.  
  
It didn't budge.  
  
She jiggled it and tapped on the door, trying not to sound too urgent. "Jonathon, honey, let Mommy in."  
  
"I can't!" He screamed from inside, and Ebony began to cry. "If I let you in, he'll come in too!"  
  
"No, sweetie, he's out in the hall, but I need to get in. Unlock the door, Jonathon."  
  
On the other side, under Ebony's cries, all Ginny heard was a slight whimper. Jonathon was weeping as well. She shouldn't have left them alone. What kind of mother was she? What had she done, other than lock her own children in a bathroom?  
  
"It's fine, Jonathon. No one's going to hurt you," Ginny was close to pleading with the boy. She was on her knees against the door, her hand still on the knob.  
  
He whimpered something on the other side, just as something hard and heavy hit against the door, shaking a few books off the shelf. A picture frame fell, glass shattering around the smiling anonymous faces. This noise only caused Jonathon to be more fearful of the whole situation. He began to full out bawl, holding no more tears back. Ebony only screamed louder.  
  
Ginny was surprised to find tears rolling down her own cheeks. The day had taken such a startling turn. It was just a few minutes ago that they had been looking at her wedding, "remembering" glorious moments of the past and laughing together. Now she didn't know how Draco was or if he was even still alive, and all her children were locked up by their own despair and fear. She was cut off from all her family, alone in the room and the world. She gripped her sides and then placed a hand over her mouth to hide her sobs from her already upset children.  
  
It was then that she realized that it was silent, and had been for a few moments then. She pressed against the wall, still too afraid to shout out to Draco or push the case back and peek out the door. She sat there, so hard against the wall that she was sure that she was making a print in it. There was so much tension in the air that Ginny could almost not stand it. She cringed at every little sound, such as the neighbor's car pulling in a driveway or the kids down the street laughing.  
  
It was forever waiting for him and Ginny wasted all her tears. There was another thud against the door, and Ginny jumped. The children, also hearing it, screamed.  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
She was too relieved to answer. Her breath came easier now, but she was still fearful.  
  
"Ginny, it's me."  
  
At that, she stood and began to push the bookcase away from the door. It required an effort and time, but she finally pushed it over. Books and frames and pictures were scattered all over the floor, and there was a wet spot where the vase had shattered. Various flowers, all of red hues were strewn about among the glass, but Ginny stepped over it easily enough.  
  
When she finally opened the door, she did so slowly.  
  
********  
  
"Where are you going, woman?" Lucius asked, wearing off his bad mood on his wife as he stepped off his broom on the castle's front grounds. She had stepped off her own, and held a bag of books on her shoulder. It was obvious to anyone that she had spent the day shopping, and for the husband to find out so quickly, before she could stash her finds anywhere, meant disaster for Narcissa. She had come prepared though, as she had known that she might have bumped into Lucius in Diagon Alley doing business and such. She dug around in various bags before she picked up what she was looking for.  
  
It was the best piece of Blackmail he'd ever received.  
  
He tried not to look too surprised, but Narcissa could see the look in his eyes. "Go on," She urged. "Take it." Her smile widened as he grabbed it from her. His hands trailed all over the leather bound book, and his bottom lip quivered, too excited to speak.  
  
"The man at the counter said that that book contains even the most ancient dark magic ever recorded. It sounded spooky, so I knew you'd like it. You like dark things."  
  
"Yes." He mumbled.  
  
"And, you know," She waltzed over to him, a little bounce in her step. "Maybe you could figure out how to. you know."  
  
He met her gaze with a quizzical one.  
  
"You know.."  
  
He shook his head, clueless.  
  
"SAVE OUR SON!!"  
  
"Goodness, woman, is that what you bought it for?!" He'd thought it was a gift. The upset man frowned, hoping his wife would notice.  
  
"I want him back, Lucius, and you're going to fix him for me!!!"  
  
"He can't be fixed! It has to be waited out-"  
  
"NO!! YOU LIAR!"  
  
Lucius sighed and looked at his wife's purple face. "Don't get upset," He muttered. Many students were looking around, wondering what the couple was arguing about. He was getting flashbacks.  
  
"You can't cheer me up. You've tried and you're just TERRIBLE at it!!"  
  
"Well-" He stuttered for a moment, trying to think up some great comeback that would shut her up permanently, but he realized from all his years with her, that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "Tell me what to do."  
  
"Ask me to dance."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"Every school dance we went to, you didn't ever ask me! Ever! I don't even know if you're a good dancer or not." She stopped for a moment and stared him down. "I know I am. I'm a great dancer. I bet I'm even better than you."  
  
Lucius was so infuriated by this comment that he grabbed her hand and began waltzing into the school. And then it was settled.  
  
********  
  
"Geez, Malfoy. That's some shiner," Harry said, hoisting an unconscious Neville into the back seat of his convertible.  
  
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy countered, arms crossed and a scowl on his obviously hurt face. Cuts and bruises seemed to cover him entirely, mostly appearing on his arms and face. His look only worsened into hate when he looked down at the limp man who had once attacked and threatened his family. To stop himself from killing the poor fellow, Draco stomped angrily back into the house, hoping that everyone else was too tired after their ordeal to care about him.  
  
Unfortunately, Draco did not get his wish.  
  
"Will you show me how to fight, Dad?" Jonathon looked up at his father with unbridled admiration and determination in his eyes.  
  
"Why would you want to know how to fight?" Draco asked, and did not wait for an answer. He sauntered over to the couch and plopped himself down on it, laying across and shielding his eyes from the light in the room with a damaged arm. He lay still for a moment, not moving for fear of causing himself more pain. He saw through his torn sleeve that Ebony was standing beside the couch, staring down at him.  
  
"What is it?" He asked tiredly.  
  
"I think you're great," She said, in her own soft quiet tone. "That's all." With that final thought, she walked upstairs to where her mother was setting the baby in the crib and asked politely to be tucked in and have a story read to her. Jonathon could be heard asking the same, but claimed he didn't need the story or the good night kiss. He had already settled in his bed after taking one last look at his brave and valiant father.  
  
Draco thought he'd have at least enough time to lie back on the couch and try to get some sleep, or strike a pose that would make Ginny believe he was sleeping, but he wasn't so lucky. Ginny's quick footsteps were so quick that if there had not been a creak in the last stair, he would not have been able to prepare himself for his onslaught. As soon as she reached the couch, he braced himself. She lunged at him, so quickly that he didn't even have a chance to catch the look on her face before she buried it in his shoulder. He winced openly at his pain, but she did not notice. It took a concentrated effort for Ginny to keep her sobs quiet, and she could think of nothing else than what was plaguing her right at that moment.  
  
"Ginny," Draco whispered, aware that the children upstairs were sleeping. He tried to pull her away from him, to reason with her, to tell her that all this crying was foolishness. He was fine. Tears won't solve anything now. You're such a baby.  
  
But as he pulled her away from him and kept his grip firm on her shoulders as though to reinforce his words, he could not bring himself to say anything. The look on her face, more than worry, but of dread and fear, and that more horrid emotion that came with vulnerability took on forms and voices of their own and seemed to pierce his cheeks and eyes so that he felt that if he did not blink fast enough, tears might fall. His throat tightened itself to prevent any harsh curses or insults to fly out in his own defense, or even a kind word to comfort Ginny. He could say nothing, and so, he merely pulled her back to her former position and hugged her again.  
  
A small gasp escaped her lips as his hand settled on her hip. Draco quickly tensed and released her, a small fear rising in his chest. Ginny sat back on the floor and raised her shirt up a little bit, examining her side. A large bruise had formed, its ugly purple and yellows stretching through most of her hip and side. Just looking at it made Draco wince, and Ginny frowned, a new onslaught of tears ready to show themselves.  
  
"It's so ugly!" She whined. "Look at it! I can't wear white blouses or a two-piece bathing suit otherwise," She looked up at Draco who was bursting with laughter ready to come out. "People will think you abuse me!!"  
  
"Abuse you? With all my injuries, they'll more likely think you hit me!"  
  
At this Ginny was able to laugh, but it quickly subsided. All that was left in her was a heavy sigh, which she heaved with desperation gilding the edges. Draco slid down off the couch to lean against it as he sat on the floor, closer to his wife. He too, gave a sigh, though his seemed more like a yawn.  
  
"I'm so tired."  
  
Ginny took her attention from her bruised side to look at the amount of damage done to him. His bruises were many, and all of them far worse than what she sported. He leaned his head against one of the cushions, and as his neck tilted, she could see a few cuts done there. She assumed that not only had Neville's fists done damage, but his nails had also aided in the onslaught, and small outlines of his wedding band were just now fading from Draco's skin.  
  
"You look tired. You got pretty banged up, there, Draco." Ginny added, still staring at him. Her gaze wouldn't waver, no matter how much she tried to make it. He met it, lazily.  
  
"Where are we, Ginny?" He drawled, his eyes half-shut but his mind still working well enough to perform conversation.  
  
"Where are we?" She echoed. "We're in Florida. In the U.S. We're in our home."  
  
At that he shook his head, unwilling to accept it. "We can't take that, Ginny. This isn't home. We're a million miles away from home."  
  
Suddenly realizing this, a small gasp came to her. She put a delicate hand to her lips, as though stopping the slew of curses she wanted to speak. Everything began to come to her so quickly-Hogwarts, her parents, her friends, The Burrow, her brothers, the Ministry, moving pictures, chocolate frogs, everything rushed back through her mind at such a speed that she had to press a hand against the floor to steady herself. "Oh my word." She whispered, surprise still etched on her features. "I didn't remember. Draco, I. I haven't remembered anything in days! Not even Harry's stupid Quidditch jacket could remind me! I just, I-" Those were the last intelligible words Ginny spoke before she started sputtering little things in short gasps. She seemed, in her state, so scared that she was barely able to breath, and reacting to this, Draco reached out and brought her to him.  
  
"Ginny, it's okay. Ginny," How many times did he have to calm this woman down? This time, however, he was mindful of her hip and spoke a bit louder to get through to her past the little spouts she was emitting. He was forceful enough to get his point across, but at the same, gentle so that she wouldn't continue to panic any further. "Ginny, what are you so afraid of?"  
  
A small blush appeared on her cheeks, but other than that, she showed no signs of wanting to say. He had to stare at her a long while to get it out of her, but eventually his efforts were awarded. She looked away as she said it, too embarrassed to meet his gaze anymore. "You," She said softly.  
  
"Me?" Draco did a double take.  
  
"Well, losing you," She corrected herself. "I mean, what if we wake up from this dream and don't remember a thing? What if we wake up tomorrow and we're still here and we don't remember home anymore? Or. what if I'm just still in Potions, comatose, and daydreaming! Which. which life is real?"  
  
She looked back to him to see a huge grin on his face in spite of what she just said. She had expected a serious expression, but instead she saw a man who looked like he was about to double over with laughter, taking her with him, no doubt. "What?!" She shouted, defensively.  
  
"You don't want to lose me," He chuckled. "I think you like me." His smile grew wider until he resembled the Cheshire Cat, and Ginny, a confused Alice, lost in a wonderland that turned out to be, most suspiciously, a strange emotion that put her on a kind of high.  
  
Ginny scoffed, unable to think of any other reaction to supply him that wouldn't give him an ego trip. "Please. Who would like a little Slytherin snot like you?"  
  
"You know you do."  
  
"I do not! Draco! I'm trying to be serious here! There is a problem on our hands!" She donned an annoyed expression, guarding against the smile that was twitching on the edges of her lips, trying to show itself.  
  
"You're right. You're in denial." He looked down at her, so sure of his assessment.  
  
Appearing shocked, she half-screamed at him,"I am not in denial!"  
  
"See? I told you so. I guess I should have seen this coming, though. I am irresistible."  
  
She scoffed again. "I think I'm resisting you pretty well." In defense, she crossed her arms as though proving just how well she could keep a distance between them. This statement was sort of hard to say, though, when she was sitting right beside him.  
  
"You're fighting it. It's an effort. It drains you emotionally every day which is why you're such a pill right now." He stared her down like some sort of psychologist, diagnosing her with an imaginary disorder that was putting her under the weather constantly. Though Ginny was leaning against the couch, she felt as though she were trapped in a box, nowhere to go. Though cornered, she knew she still had some ammo left in her, but Draco wouldn't have it. "Poor Ginny. So confused. Why don't you just admit it, doll? That'd make things better."  
  
She resisted the urge to scoff in his face again. It was become a frequent habit, really. Instead, she sneered, put on a look of assurance, and leaned in a little closer as though she were going to whisper something. "Spare me, Draco. You just want me to say it so that you can finally get your declaration of love off your chest. It's weighing you down. You're emotionally drained. Why don't you just let it out?" Her little smirk widened until a full-blown smile was in its place. She was looking at an expression on Draco that she, nor anyone else at Hogwarts had ever seen before. He was embarrassed, stuttering, confused, hesitating-he was almost scared that Ginny would get the best of him here.  
  
"That's a nice little lie. What's next, Ginny? Bank robbery?"  
  
"I was thinking about it."  
  
"You wouldn't be able to pull it off by yourself. You're too clumsy."  
  
"I guess I'd just have to take you along with me, then, won't I, Clyde?"  
  
Late that night, one could find the pair still talking, laughing, arguing, or having little poke-fights in which they would each aim at each other's injuries. Needless to say, Draco lost this.  
  
*******  
  
As planned, the fic is getting darker. oooo... Sometimes I just get in these violent moods and rather than beat my pillows or my sisters (which doesn't ever work out so hot because they always hit back, and harder) I end up writing things like this. Torture and angst! Or just hopeless situations that shouldn't have happened altogether and may never have fit into the plot.  
  
This, however, did! I know the little scuffle seemed a little pointless on its own in this chapter, but later in the fic it's going to tie into a lot. Thanks to all of you who have been so patient! I love you all, guys!  
  
Yeah, Maura Belle 


	6. Mourning and The Morning

Some considered this recovery of my fic to be a sign of the apocalypse, and thought it would not happen for many, many years to come…. And yet that day is here.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I pretty much don't own harry potter and it keeps me awake crying every night.

The Erised Effect

Chapter 6: Mourning and The Morning.

****

The next morning, Neville awoke rather unnaturally, but a force of a great pin that was being pushed into his side. As he lay with his eyes yet unfocused, he concentrated more on his surroundings and found he had several spots of pain over his sides and a great bruising on his nose, and that even slightly moving his head gave him immediate discomfort. But what surprised Mr. Longbottom the most was the fact that he was incredibly restricted to the area in which he lay. Indeed, there were so many ropes and scarves and neckties surrounding him, it was hard to tell where one started and one began, though each somehow made its way around him, pinning to the couch and keeping his struggles unsuccessful in dislodging any fixture.

With a great cry he rolled over and found his bruised nose crushed against the rug.

Suddenly, there were the sharp, quick footsteps of high-heeled feet, and the sight of pointed toes beside him. He attempted to look up but the feet scuttled away, with Pansy's voice clearly shouting "I don't think I can get you back up on the couch, you know! Its your own fault for falling down!"

"Pansy…" Neville groaned weakly. "Why am I all tied up? My head hurts…" He whined as though he were asking his mother to kiss a scrape.

Though Neville could not see it, Pansy's expression hardened her lips shrinking themselves into a fine line that parted only for cruel things. "You are tied up because last night after our argument you got DRUNK. And not only did you get drunk, but you went and took it out on Draco Malfoy! And tried to do some damage to Ginny too!"

Neville tried to roll over but any way he moved, his head hurt. He groaned an apology. "Um… I'm sorry Pansy."

Pansy's expression softened, and she looked to the high ceiling of their home as though the answer were written there. She brought her hand up to push back the hair from her eyes and left it resting on her forehead as though she had come down with something. Pansy Parkinson-Longbottom sighed and knelt beside what she was forced to call her husband.

Neville also sighed, though his was of relief and not frustration, as she pushed him to roll over on his back, which was also sore, but not as much as his nose. "Thank—"

"Don't thank me!" Pansy interrupted. "You know you had me worried sick! I didn't know what to do, Neville, I couldn't think! I was just so… so sorry for what I had said! I wasn't thinking when I said those things, I really wasn't, because if I had been thinking I would have known that I can't know possibly if you're a good husband or not, because I've only known you a few days, and really, if you'd had a crush on me that was alright, I wasn't…. _disgusted._ That was a terrible word to use and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, alright? I said it, I said I'm sorry, so now you can forgive me and you won't have to get drunk or hit anyone and I can untie you if you forgive me because then I won't be scared!"

Neville looked up at her—his wife who was crying over the front of his sweater-vest, and thought she could not stop from being beautiful even if she scrunched up her face like that for a thousand years.

"Okay," He said. "I'm okay." And he was, despite a little nose-bruising. While she pulled a necktie from around his ankles, he thought to himself how he was more "okay" than he ever was in school, tied up and immobile, but next to Pansy nonetheless.

Ginny awoke to find herself lying alone on the living room floor, with a sore back and an even worse-feeling hip. Groaning, she sat herself up and leaned against the base of the couch, secretly wishing to herself that the children would find it in themselves to behave like teenagers for a day and sleep in until one p.m. Pulling her hair out of her face, disheveled and beyond hope though it was, Ginny sighed and found it easy to remember that a mere few days ago she was a student, a child. She had no one to worry about besides her self, save on holidays, on which occasion she had to spare time to think of someone else and purchase a present. But other than that, Ginny's life had been solely about Ginny: the boy she wanted to date, the things she wanted, the classes she wanted to take, the time she devoted to herself in the morning, primping and getting ready. Now even when she was by herself, she was thinking of others: what she had to do to get the kids ready, where they were going today, what Draco was doing, when they were going to visit Ron and Hermione, when would be a good time to check on Pansy…

Ginny had ceased to exist, and there was only this machine that knew it had responsibilities to fulfill and lacked the right parts to do it.

Heaving another great sigh, she brought herself to a standing position and lifted her arms high above her head, her back curving. Stretching and yawning and soon slouching back into her former position, she looked at the clock and saw it was as early as eight, and that any minute there would be cartoons on the television and children demanding breakfast. Ginny moved quite mechanically toward the kitchen, but as she did, the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of Draco through the window, standing by himself on the porch.

Ginny might not have ventured outside if she had known that Draco had been pondering hating himself for allowing her head to rest on his shoulder as she had dozed off in the middle of her sentences, for staring at her sleeping form and thinking thoughts that would have sent his former classmates on a murderous rampage, that would have made him an outcast of the Slytherin circle. But then Ginny came out and intterupted his thoughts and he could dwell no more on the idea that marrying her might not have been the biggest mistake of his life.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked, still clearly drowsy, speaking slowly.

Draco could not look at her. He hated himself too much to look at her, for what he was thinking, for what he could not push out of his mind. How could he have known her for six years, and within a week of being forced to be with her everyday, begin to think this way? His eyes looked across a yard littered with kiddie slides and toys, and gripped the railing he leaned on. "I was just… thinking," He admitted.

Ginny tilted her head to the side and made a small pouty face for him. "Aw. You miss your big house don't you?"

Draco's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Your big, fancy house. This must be a shack compared to what you live in, normally." Some days, Ginny could wake up and find herself completely immersed in this dream world, believing whole-heartedly that she was Draco's wife and enjoying it very much. On other days, such as this one, she could awake and be fully aware that what she was living was not at all real.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright. That's not what I was thinking about though." He was almost inviting her to ask him again directly, wanting to let out that he was weak and stupid and didn't like the way he was thinking. The joking they had done the night before, so completely light-hearted and easy, free of ulterior motives of pureblood courting games… He shook his head as though to get the words to stop pounding in his ears. "You know what? I have to go for a walk. I'll be back for breakfast."

Ginny protested, but was ignored, and finally crossed her arms in an annoyed manner and huffed back into the house as Draco strode down the sidewalk, head down and hands in his pockets. As she closed the door, Ebony was halfway down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing, the other dragging a doll behind her. She sat down at the table and stared at spoons.

A few moments later, the rain came with a sudden jolt and only a slight spattering of it at first, plish-ploshing here and there and then very quickly, it was unleashed in drops quite large in size, falling one after the other, one racing the other to hit the pavement and join oblivion on the asphalt. Puddles gathered, and soon gutters were filled, the streets were shining, and lights in restaurants lit themselves quietly, and were reflected in the surface of the sidewalks beside traffic.

Ginny brought the baby downstairs and began attempting to make a small, green spoon resemble a flying broomstick by zipping it here and there and into the baby's mouth. "Good Gabriel! What a good boy…" The baby squealed in excitement at the prospect of being a "good boy" and banged on the tray of his highseat, thereby spilling all the contents of the spoon over his bib. Ginny sighed, and cast a lonely glance out the window. The rain was coming rather hard, and Draco was not yet home. Perhaps he had ducked into some ambiguous place for shelter, or was nice and dry in some coffee shop, or having the time of his life at a party, meeting people, smiling at girls… Ginny's face flushed and she became furious. She was being silly, and told herself so, but could not stop her worrying. She only wished she had one of those clocks like her mother kept, which was so lovely with keeping track of everyone.

Since the great disaster had descended upon Hogwarts, students had subconsciously formed the habit of taking the long way to their classes, and just happening to walk past the hospital wing in a long detour, as though hoping to be the ones to see someone awaken. When Mrs. Weasley screamed, several students were right outside the door, and gave a quick jump before rushing off to Divinations as Dumbledore came striding down the hallway with his wand and a large set of keys. After removing several spells for his own well-being (not wanting to be foaming at the mouth anymore than was necessary and not really understanding the fad behind unusually stained and dyed hair), he placed inside the lock one very large key which was turned a grand total of fifteen times before he was able to unlock the first lock. The second only took twelve.

When the doors were opened at last, Dumbledore was greeted by the sight of a sobbing Mrs. Weasley, and a very, very angry Mr. Malfoy.

"DUMBLEDORE," he greeted the aged man very sternly, "I am VERY disappointed with your administration here."

"Good heavens, calm down," Dumbledore motioned with his hands as though watching them flutter up and down somehow made Mr. Malfoy feel a little bit easier. "I have come to attend to the boys, it will be just fine."

"That NURSE of yours—"

"I am very much aware of the trouble Madame Pomfrey has been having this morning, as she sent me a note about it. And she is not my nurse, simply my employee. Now then, what is the matter, Mrs. Weasley?"

The wailing of the rather large woman could not have been forgotten or easily ignored for all of Malfoy's complaints and accusations, for she howled and bawled unceasingly until the volume of her blubbering pulled itself down from the rafters, and disapointed Moaning Myrtle, who was watching quite a show with admiration. "Oh, ALBUS!" She mumbled through a glob stuck in her throat. "MY BABY'S HURT!"

Dumbledore frowned through his beard and his brow furrowed. He had not expected one of the Weasleys to have been involved in this. "Mrs. Weasley, please take a moment to calm yourself and breathe."

Mrs. Weasley gulped in oxygen, as a large fish thinking it were in water, and slowed her tantrum. Her face was twisted up when she finally looked from the stone floor to the headmaster and began to tell what she knew. "I didn't really know what all the ruckus was about last night," She admitted. "It frightened me, sure, but I didn't think any of my babies would be involved. Well last night I just couldn't stop thinking about it, and I had to check on them. So I came in last night with the password you taught us—"

"You are aware that changes daily."

"—yes I know but yesterday it was 'banana pudding on waffles' so I tried that and it worked and I got in. Anyways, I checked Ginny over and she looked completely fine, breathing as usual. She looked as though she was happy about something and so lovely, so then I went to Ron—"

"Is it Ron you're upset about Mrs. Weasley?"

"NO but I want to tell a STORY!" She wailed, pushing a tissue closer to her nose, threateningly. "Now, I checked Ron last night and his face seemed a little flushed and I just wondered if he could have been involved in that but I checked him over too and he was fine: injury-free."

"Is that the end of the story, Mrs. Weasley?"

"NO IT IS NOT. I'm sorry, Albus, but it distresses me when you interrupt."

"Yes do go on, I love stories," Mrs. Malfoy confessed, brandishing a plate of breakfast from the kitchens. "Yours is terribly exciting."

Mrs. Weasley held in her pride at her marvelous tale and continued, sniffling. "Well anyways, I had checked them both and they were fine, except it seemed Ron might have had a fever so I came back this morning after Arthur went to the Ministry, and Ron didn't have a fever, I was very glad about that… but MY BABY, ALBUS—" She wailed once and silenced herself. "SHE'S BRUISED. I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED ALBUS."

"Oh, terrible," Mrs. Malfoy shook her head. "I was so looking forward to happy ending. Those are my favorites."

"Well they're in a dream world right? Well WHOSE dream, Albus? Whose? What if she's attached to someone in this dream who beats her? What if my baby's being beaten and there's nothing I can do about it?" Mrs. Weasley plunged herself back into hysterics without care of who was watching. Mrs. Malfoy went over to her to pat her on the back and offer her a sausage.

Mr. Malfoy approached Dumbledore. "Now see here, Dumbledore," He began, with his best business-deal voice. "Your nurse has been trying healing spell one after another all morning and not a single cut or bruise has lifted from my boy."

"I realize this, Lucius. I got the note."

"Well, what do you propose we do about it?" He demanded. "I won't have Draco brandishing any magical scars! It could do strange things to him—it could lower his self-esteem and I won't have any of that. Not in my family. Confidence, Dumbledore, Malfoys have confidence superior to others because of our blood line and relations—"

The front door flew open just as lightning flashed and thunder began its low, unsteady rumble, causing Ebony to scream as long and as high as her voice would allow. Because of this stimulus, the baby began to wail in its playpen and Jonathon covered his ears with two pillows as Ginny tried desperately to calm them both. When the soggy figure stepped in the doorway, kicking off its shoes, Ebony silenced herself, yet the baby kept crying.

"Oh," Ebony walked over to Draco and hugged his legs, though they were soaked.

"Ebony!" Ginny protested. "Now look at you, you're all wet! Go change your clothes, please."

"Okay." Ebony retreated up the stairs, allowing Draco to walk freely without her attached to his jeans. Ginny approached him with a confused look on her face.

"You're soaked through."

Draco met her gaze as he was taking off his socks, which dripped over the entirety of the entryway, as he laid them down. "Yeah, I know," He answered.

Ginny watched him as though he were a stranger, or insane. "Do you want a towel or something…?" She asked, ever the helpful housewife.

"That'd be nice," Draco admitted, and allowed himself to be pampered. He waited in the entryway, commanded by Ginny, who did not want him dripping all over "her" carpet. When she returned to him, still wearing her pajamas and yawning, he shivered. This was an admittance of his humanness, a realization that he was not completely perfect, and Ginny liked a little shiver from him. But when she handed him the towel, it continued.

"Draco, are you alright?" She asked, trying to keep concern out of her voice, and finding it impossible to do with a sentence such as that.

"Y-yeah," He answered, standing straighter and trying to control a shudder. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Concern was easy enough to hide in that one.

"Well you're not exactly… a.. you're not—" Draco's mind was also numb.

Ginny knew him well enough to know that when he was cold enough to not be able to properly insult her, he was close to hypothermic. She ran to gather more towels from the linen closet and brought them back to him quickly. He made very feeble gestures and attempts to refuse her help, but she ignored them by pulling him down to where she could reach the top of his head and scrubbing his bright blonde hair dry with a pink towel. She placed another in his hands and allowed him to dry his face off, and the rest of him and then stepped back to see if he would be alright. He persisted in shivering. What was worse, he was now sneezing in his protests to get her to stop. She pushed him up the stairs, though he refused and wanted to stay downstairs for breakfast. Ginny's hold on his upper arm was strong and steady until they reached the master bedroom, where Ginny had slept previously by herself, with Draco on the couch or a cot.

"We need to get those clothes off of you," She declared.

"What—" Draco could not say anything further, as his shirt was already coming off over his head. Once it was gone, he began again. "GINNY—" But she hadn't gone further. She stood there before him, in pink cotton pajamas, holding his shirt and staring at him. She beheld the bruising on him, the cuts he had sustained keeping a crazed man away from their family. Her eyes filled themselves with tears, but Draco sneezed and did not see. Before he looked up, she shoved the shirt at him.

"You need to take a shower," She commanded. "And then some cold medicine. And you just need to rest today. I'll go make breakfast." And with that, she was out the door and down the stairs, wiping her eyes and sniffling.

Draco sat there a moment, confused and shirtless, but eventually brought himself to do what he had been told.

Stepping out of the bathroom, one of the multitudes of towels wrapped around his waist, Draco coughed harshly and frowned. Soon his eyes laid on a green set of pajamas on the bed with a very large "D" embellished on the pocket. It was at this moment that he realized how badly he wanted sleep. He changed into the cotton set and walked, barefoot, downstairs, to where he smelled food. Halfway down the stairs, in mid-cough, Ginny stopped him. "What are you doing?" She demanded. She stood at the bottom waving a spatula at him. She flinged it at she spoke and something flew onto the floor. "Go back upstairs and get in bed until I bring you something for a cold!" Draco hesitated, but then considered having to fight her, bruised as he already was, and now on the verge of being ill. He turned around and went back.

The second floor was quiet, void of all squealing babies and noisy cartoon-shows, yet Draco's now stuffy head was no more cleared by this than it had been on his walk. He lay down on the bed, convinced he was not going to stay there all day just to listen to Ginny, but could not help sliding between the sheets, rolling over on his side, and closing his eyes for a bit. Soon Ginny entered to the sound of a great, ugly cough, and a shaking Draco in the large king-sized bed, looking entirely too small and curled up to be the only one in it. She said a little "ahem" and he noticed her presence, yet still continued to cough.

In her hands was a great tray, with a large plate of waffles adorning the middle, and glasses of orange juice and milk on one side. She had fixed eggs and sausages and rolls and every breakfast thing imaginable piled atop the tray. Draco sat up almost mechanically, his labored breath taken away by the sight of all that warm food. She set it on his lap and he began to eat, saying nothing.

"I didn't know what you liked for breakfast," She admitted. "So I just… made it all. Of course, its close to eleven now, so lunch isn't that far but…" She trailed off, realizing she was just talking to herself. The cold medicine sat in a bottle on the corner, and Ginny picked it and the spoon from their former places and began to pour the liquid into the spoon. Draco had finished the waffles. "Open up," She ordered.

"Hm?" He responded, drinking orange juice in great gulps. He was not going to question where or how Ginny had mastered Muggle cooking skills so quickly, and was only grateful for it, as he seemed to be warming from the inside out.

"Open up," She ordered again.

Draco shook his head. "Mm-mm. I don't want it."

"Draco!" She chastised him. "Open your mouth or have a cold for the rest of your life." But he shook his head defiantly. Ginny reached out and pinched his nose before he could wiggle his face away from her grip.

For a moment, they sat there like that. Ginny had never before imagined that she would one day be pinching Malfoy's nose, trying to get him to down cough syrup, but then again, stranger things had happened. Draco, meanwhile, was having a hard time, as he had been hit on the nose quite recently and had the urge to sneeze arising in the back of his throat. Also, he could not breathe.

In one quick motion, Draco's mouth opened wide and the spoon came in, dumping the contents on his tongue and almost making him gag. Ginny smiled triumphantly and clapped her hands as her husband grimaced. "All better?" She asked. He squinted through a bad aftertaste and looked up at her from the bed.

"That stuff isn't magic, Ginny. Muggle medicine takes a while to start working."

"Oh… I forgot, I guess," Ginny frowned as he coughed again, shaking the tray in his lap. "Well what am I supposed to do with you until you're better?"

"I'm not sick, Gin--" He paused to sneeze. "—ny… I just had a little walk in the rain—" again, to cough. "—but I'm find."

"You're what?"

"Find."

"Come again."

"Oh shud ub," Draco accepted a tissue from Ginny and could suddenly breathe again. "if I get up and start walking around, I'll get better."

"You're a liar."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh! You're staying in this bed until I say you're better."

"Or what?"

"Or I kick your butt. And don't feed you." The first was not as intimidating as the latter, and Draco took this threat quite seriously.

"Oh. Will you say I'm better now?" He sneezed. Then he looked up at her and smiled, trying to win her over so he could get up.

"No." His smile instantly vanished, replaced with his usual scowl.

In silence, he finished his food, and then handed the tray to her in exchange for a new box of tissues. She left the room with the tray and shut the door behind her, commanding him to get some rest. For a while, he sat in his green cotton pajamas with the large "D" emblem, and thought of acrostics for his name. D is for daring. R is for right all the time. A is for awesome. C is for charisma. O is for outstanding. D is for devilish good looks. R is for right all the time…. After a while, there were only so many things that would correctly fit him in an acrostic, and he sat, sniffling and pondering how to entertain himself. Laying blame was always a great activity to pass time at school.

Well it was Ginny's fault he was sick. She was the reason he had to walk so distractedly away from his home, so that he got himself lost in his own neighborhood when the rain started pouring, and she had not even recommended to him before he left that he should take a jacket. So she should take care of him. It certainly wasn't out of the kindness of her heart. That would be... silly.

Draco refused to think about her anymore. He got up from the bed and moved the trashcan to a far corner of the room and then retreated back to his former position. As he blew his nose, he would wad up the tissue and toss it towards that far corner, whispering to himself "two points" if he made it and occasionally humming a fight song or muttering a "… and the crowd goes wild. Haaaaa… haaaaa…" Thus, Draco passed the time while the rain beat against the window, and coughs and sneezes came quite often.

Feeling a little weak, he eventually lay down and closed his eyes, wanting only to rest for a minute. He had been laying still on his side--facing the door and listening to the children downstairs laughing and giggling and crying at having fallen down—for about five minutes when the door opened slowly. Ginny succeeded in opening it quietly without the creak occurring as it had before, and tiptoed in, making little sound as she crossed the room to the bed. Draco feigned sleep and listened to her moving about the room, probably picking up tissue wads that had missed the trash can. This was confirmed when he heard the trash can itself being lifted and placed by the bed where it had been previously. Draco did not stir, hoping she would just finish this task and go so he could actually try to sleep, but he then heard a creak in the floor, and realized she must be very near to him, kneeling beside the bed. He did not move when she slid her hand across his forehead, a caring gesture, measuring his temperature. The hand soon was lifted off and placed on both of his cheeks, measuring their warmth. Draco tried to let his breathing continue steadily. Ginny did nothing for a few moments after that, and Draco had assumed after a long minute of waiting, that she had left.

Then, without warning, she placed a kiss on Draco's warm and feverish forehead, stood up, and left the room. When he heard the door shut, Draco opened his eyes, looked about, and then closed them again, shut tight and defiant, determined to sleep and hopefully be unaware of it, if that sort of thing ever happened again.

Over the years, several theories have been made on the adaptive quality of human beings. Hundreds of thousands of college students can raise their hands and honestly testify that they have been victims of endless lectures on the development of technology to change our surrounds, from the first cavemen sharpening sticks, to American highways, to the clever Japanese creating computers that fit over one's eye. Though there are many different arguments as to which part of the brain this quality involves or how humans acknowledge first the need to use it, the information stands stagnant in the argument of whether or not this trait is actually a blessing or a curse. Of course it gave us vehicles, the Information Age, the microchips and the cell phones and laptops of our day, but in matter of fact, it can be quite harmful to a body in a certain position: one of inverted reality and confused psychology. This is the case of several students at Hogwarts, who have found themselves to have been turned against by the very trait that enabled their existance through the junior high years, and would continue to profit them further, if they ever chose to awaken.

To adapt meant-- to Ginny, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Pansy—to accept their surrounds as they were and adjust their own lives to them. For the women this translated into motherhood, and for the men, they saw only the immediate interest to put food on the table and toil at their jobs wherever they were allowed to earn their pay. And so it happened that the entire group forgot their previous existance in the wizarding world—save one. Harry however, lived so far from the rest of them and found his bachelor existance of fame and fortune received from a life of sports quite pleasing, and was in no mood to reject it anytime soon.

The students continued to lay immobile on their beds, their parents by their sides and on scheduled watches in case one miraculously awoke. Christmas had passed without them, and soon the New Year would as well. Some struggled to keep a waning grip on their optimism, others had given up completely and begun to continue their daily lives, such as Lucius Malfoy. Work was most certainly a priority for him, but his wife stayed by her son's side constantly. She had learned several new card games and most recently, how to knit from Mrs. Weasley, and had produced several good sweaters, hats, and a multitude of blankets that would be absolutely perfect for Draco once he woke up. The material used was all in various shades of green, with some silver laced in amongst the elaborate designs. Mr. Weasley completed his summer reading list for next summer and began a parent book club in the hospital wing in the school, beginning with Pride and Prejudice, and most recently reading a few Hemingway short stories. Mrs. Malfoy was most interested in this—as she saw it—the "piddling literature of American Muggle society" until it was revealed to her that Hemingway was in fact, a warlock that chose to live among Muggles… which was why he was a wonderful fisherman and why so many Americans admired his style and how he had gotten so many wives. Really, he just wrote with a special pen, which had belonged to a British wizard in the first world war, but when he was wounded he just happened to leave it in the ambulance Hemingway just happened to be driving, and Mrs. Weasley began to persist that Mr. Weasley must stop his lecture or she would beat him with her purse and umbrella.

Each parent took turns on a nightly watch, keeping an eye out for any movement such as the previous apparent seizures that Draco and Neville had had. According to Dumbledore, as he continued to research the earlier case of this rare ailment, the students were still acting as though they were in their own physical bodies—that whatever sort of dream world they were in was made by magic to be somewhat tangible, and whatever injuries they may sustain would show on their bodies. While this appeared to the parents as another horrifying way to be tortured—not only do they have to sit and watch their children suffer unknowingly in a comatose state, but they must also watch them be beaten for no apparent reason?—it was evident to Dumbledore that it might provide some sort of clues for them. A faster heart rate told them there was stress. Cuts on fingertips and callused hands meant they were working and making their own meals. Perspiration meant they were running around. Dumbledore wrinkling his forehead occasionally meant he was thinking… and he didn't have to think long and hard to realize what was going on.

Even in school, the Headmaster had always caught on rather quickly to things other people could not perceive. His intuition latched onto the idea of what these students were being put through, and yet he did not want to alarm the parents.

So he said nothing.

Authors notes: we meet again. Please tell me what you think of it and have a nice day. The next chapter will not be two years coming.


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